


Radio Roommate

by Pistol_the_Dimension_Hopper



Category: Hazbin Hotel (Web Series)
Genre: Deaf Character, F/F, F/M, Family Drama, Gen, M/M, Sex Positive Alastor (Hazbin Hotel), This is as funny as it is throat-strangling annoying, Unrealistic Expectations, Urbach Wiethe Disease, and they were ROOMMATES
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-30
Updated: 2021-01-26
Packaged: 2021-03-05 19:42:07
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 37
Words: 98,286
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25610764
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pistol_the_Dimension_Hopper/pseuds/Pistol_the_Dimension_Hopper
Summary: Your name is Wisteria Dahlia Jordan, and you were born without fear.You move to Georgia to live in your Grandparent's Summer cabin, away from society in mid-2018.Let's see what shenanigans you can get up to in the middle of nowhere..Real Updates every FridayRATED 16+ for NSFW THEMESFanart and Self-Illustrations Posted RandomlySome Fanart provided by kadieBlue-Instagram:edgymctwizzlerstick_TheyWhoShallNotBeNamedCheck her out, her work is AMAZING-!
Relationships: Alastor (Hazbin Hotel)/Original Female Character(s), Alastor (Hazbin Hotel)/Reader
Comments: 590
Kudos: 598





	1. Setting the Stage

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by "And they were Roommates" Trope.

Your name is Wisteria Dahlia Jordan, and you were born without fear.

You were one half of a set of twins, your sister Chrysanthemum sharing no such mental deficiency. Some would argue that having no fear would be the ultimate gift. That having no fear would be one of the most amazing traits one could possibly possess in this day and age.

_But you knew that was false._

Fear was a necessary chemical compound in the human mind that kept people from being _unbelievably stupid._

Chrysanthemum was the eldest of the two of you, and while about ninety-eight percent of the time she acted _far_ younger than you, there were the severe moments where she would step into your current situation and physically remove you from the premises for the safety of not only yourself, but the people around you.

See, it had taken quite a lot of therapy and neurology specialists as a child before your grandfather and grandmother, who had taken all but three of their grandchildren beneath their roof due to family issues, called all of it off and took to giving you things to do _away_ from people.

Most of your childhood memories included Capoeira and instrumental lessons. Writing in journals and fishing on the lake outside their home farther toward the mountains of Michigan.

You remembered school being _absolute hell,_ struggling every day with the urge to stick a pencil through someone’s eye socket or larynx simply for the sole reason that you were unafraid of the consequences.

But you had a twin. A twin who knew your even minute expressions and mood changes and who knew _immediately_ when to drag you away from a situation.

You fondly recalled one such situation she had been late to pull you from, finding you cackling like a hyena in the middle of an alley while a very poorly-dressed man with a scraggly beard and a gun wilted a few feet away, severely put-down and resigned with the situation. He didn’t even _fight_ the cops as they hauled him off, and you remembered waving brightly at him as the car was driving away, having not laughed in so long due to the stress of your midterms and welcoming the ridiculous distraction with open arms and a smile.

Chrys had had enough of your shit by highschool graduation, and while she flew off to New York at your and your grandparent’s insistence to attend Julliard for her scholarship, you had been left to your own devices for college and attended two years on-campus in Illinois attending Northwestern University. 

You transferred your credits over to Full-Sail University online courses for a writing degree after you received the Masters degree in coding. 

You figured you would take the online courses somewhere else, and your grandparents, bless their elderly hearts, were fully on board with the idea of going to live in one of the family cabins to live as a hermit for a while. Out of the three that were left around the country, you’d chosen the one in Georgia purely for aesthetic. The water in Blue Ridge lake was almost _sinfully_ clear and the weather was nearly always perfect.

Your waterside cabin in Blue Ridge was also very close to McCaysville. It had a nice waterside market, a lot of physical activity stores for things like water rapid riding or hiking, and _so many antique shops- your inner aesthetic critic bitch was very, very pleased with you.._

So armed with three cases of clothes (two of which were mostly cosplay) a dozen or so boxes of personal items and a small army of electronic devices, you set up shop in the place that would be your home for the next perceivable decade of your life.

The office on the second floor had a good view of the lake, as did the master bedroom just one door over, so you were eager to angle your workspace in the corner to allow you that crystalline view of the water with only the slightest spin to your office chair.

The majority of the carpets in the home were thick, shaggy and grey, while the floors on the first floor were entirely wood and littered with thick grey throw rugs. 

Nearly every inch of wood in the house was pale oak, buffed to a shine and gleamed invitingly with the many windows shining from the walls. You’d bought extra thick curtains for your room to block out light when needed, but you looked forward to the naps you would be having in the living room sunspots on the beige couches and chairs..

The kitchen was further back in the home, with a door that led to the outdoor patio, that led into steps down to the private dock. You didn’t currently have a boat, but that was easily fixed. Until then, you had floaties you’d bought a few weeks back and a pair of jet skis in the locked shed down closer to the water.

It took a few days to unpack and put everything where it needed to be, but you finally finished the arduous task of poster-pinning, desk arranging and clothes sorting.

There was enough closet space for about three more people, but you’d never needed that much to wear, preferring your sweater collection, soft pants and slippers with a handful of nicer dresses and such toward the back. Even now you were wearing a pale blue sweatshirt over a white tank top, matching pale blue sweatpants on your legs and your panda slippers smiling up into the air almost in a creepy way.

It made you smile.

The only thing about the house that wasn’t _quite_ perfect was-

_The empty fridge.._

Whelp, take-out tonight, and Grocery shopping tomorrow..?

You glance at the sun outside, seeing it slipping almost entirely down below the line of mountains.

_..Maybe order in?_

* * *

The doorbell rang as you were lining up your movie collection on the shelves to the left of the fireplace, where a flatscreen was mounted above the unlit, lacework grate. Along the mantle was a number of photographs of your cousins and uncles and a single aunt, with a few small objects like a fish-themed paperweight and a ceramic pinecone you vaguely remembered your eldest cousin Reece giving to your shared grandmother when you were five and he was eight.

You nearly skipped to the door, throwing it open and pressing a twenty to the young woman’s face before plucking up the pizza and closing it again with a quick “Thanks, hun.”

Shutting the door again felt like sealing yourself behind a spaceship vault, a breath of relief leaving you as you turned on your heel and moved to the living room, settling the box on the low oak coffee table and reaching for the remote sitting precariously on the edge of the armrest on the opposite side.

When it clattered to the floor at the clumsy grasping of your fingers, you grumbled for a second and got to your feet, shuffling down to swipe it up and return to your seat with a faint bounce from the sheer force of your disinterested plop.

Clicking it on and smiling indulgently at the full bar internet connection, you swiped through Netflix, eager to find something to hold your attention as you ate.

* * *

You awoke at four in the morning to a dry mouth and your joints itching as they usually did before a long hot shower.

Rolling off of the couch, you glowered at the three quarters eaten pizza and closed the box to glare at the Netflix screen. The words _Are you still watching?_ taunted you and you grumbled as you clicked the power button to turn it off and drag the pizza box to the large fridge. Like all of the appliances in the cabins your grandparents owned, everything was up-to-date and gleaming stainless steel. Your grandmother had flat out refused to purchase anything white after the frosting-dye fiasco nearly all of the grandchildren had ultimately participated in the summer of 2012.

She had nearly cried at the sight of the tye-dye monstrosity that was her cabin fridge.

You still cringed remembering her heartbroken wail at the state of her kitchen. She may have been grateful that no one was hurt and the fire _in and on_ the oven hadn’t burnt the entire house down but she had _tanned_ your hides red for that little frosting war.

You rubbed your backside even now remembering those belt lashes. You sure as hell never did anything like _that_ again in Nana’s kitchen.

Wandering up the staircase, your eyes caught on a few of the painted sceneries, many of them picked up from antique shops, but a few having been painted by your aunt Francine. Her signature bird feather beneath a jagged FD.

Slipping into the shower after stripping from your clothes, you sighed in relief as the cool water shot out against your dry skin, eager for any sort of water or lotion at his point and rapidly lifting your arms to keep your elbows and knees in the direct spray. Having Urbach-Weithe was more of an inconvenience than people let on, really..

Stepping out onto the floor mat, you used a dull blue towel to dry off your hair and neck, mindful of your aching joints and eager to dig your fingers into the large jar of the honey-smelling stuff on your nightstand.

Two hours later found you in a pair of jean capris and a button-up white shirt with a pair of black and white converse on your feet.

Your socks were bright blue and patterned with white candy wrappers, but the color matched your crop top/hoodie so there was little debate. 

The air was crisp and warm with just the lightest breeze in your dark blue hair, the curled waves tucked over one shoulder and held there with a baseball cap.

You scrolled through your phone after exiting your car, a simple white sedan you’d gotten used from a dealership in Michigan a year back. The door shut behind you with a faint thunk and you began walking, no true direction in mind, trusting your ever-hungry gut to lead you to the nearest grocer.

* * *

You were halfway through a bar of chocolate when you passed an antique shop, three bags of groceries on your arm aiming to be put in the trunk of your car where you kept an electric cooler. 

Your head turned without prompt at the shine of gold in the window, your curiosity piqued until you saw that it was a curved horn in the window. A further glance past the dusty glass emblazoned with _Aurora’s Antiques_ in bright purple showed a dim room full of what looked to be piles and piles of boxes and junk.

Glancing at your bags, you decided to swing back, picking up the pace to put the food in the car before walking back around to the same dusty building in the same dusty line of shops.

A brass bell rang above the door as you pushed it open, using the sleeve of your half-hoodie to cover your nose as you slipped inside. The scent of dust and old books was thick in the air and with a second glance to make sure that the sign _did_ say OPEN, you started to walk through the maze of shelves and boxes, eager to find something unique to add to your new home.

Crockery and wooden spoons, a bin of canes and a nearby umbrella, you saw dozens of unlit floor lamps and dozens of mirrors and clocks. There were more lamps made for single candles to sit inside. You grabbed two of those that mostly matched and decided to put them in your room. Continuing down the aisle you were in, you looked at the paired shoes near the floor and a shelf of nick-nack type things.

At the end of the aisle was a dark redwood cabinet, a fine glaze ruined with dust and spots of obvious wear. It was elegantly carved, however, and looked like it might have held something like liquor or old photos back in the day.

“That’d be a radio cabinet, young lady.”

You jolted in surprise, lifting you head up to see a weathered old woman who looked to be at _least_ in her eighties. She was hunched over a low counter, also piled high on the sides with objects. There were more mirrors, some jewelry stands, and even a stack of old-looking books.

Your eyes caught a shining opal pendant and you mentally calculated what you had left in your paycheck until Friday.

“How much?” you asked curiously. You placed the two lamps onto the counter near where she hunched, seeing the old bronze cash register and almost bouncing in place when she pressed the buttons and it worked clearly and cleanly, despite the obvious well-worn visage of it.

“The Cabinet would be..” the woman frowned a moment, looking unsure and rumpled, before shaking her head, “One hundred fifty.. I’d sell it for one, really, I’ve had it brought back so often..”

“Deal,” you shrugged, counting out the bills in your wallet and finishing the transaction with a smile. “Mind if I drive my car up to the porch? I don’t think I can carry it that long of a way..”

“Oh, I’ve got a worker for that, dear,” the woman smiled almost indulgently as she waved off your concerns. “My grandson just moved back home from his fancy school up in the North. He’s helping out around the shop for a while.. I’ll call him downstairs.”

You shuffled in place a moment as she disappeared into a door near the back of the shop that had a stairwell inside, running your fingers through your hair and leaning your hip on the counter as you eyed the opal pendant hanging between your fingers. Best forty-seven dollars you’ve ever spent.

A young man who looked to be in his mid-twenties came down the steps at a quick pace. Your eyes caught on the fact that he had large, dorky black glasses over his eyes and shaggy brown hair before you noticed that his sweatshirt said _Columbia University_.

 _Dayum Son,_ you felt your eyebrows hike up your face as an aristocratic jaw and thin, smooth lips pulled into a smile. Brown eyes creased behind the faint glare of the glasses in the lamp light and you instinctively smile back.

“This is Ethan,” the older woman was down the steps just after him, a foot and a half shorter and having to reach up to pat his arm. “He’ll wheel your new radio out on a cart for you, dear.. It’ll just be a minute.”

“Pleasure to meet you,” the young man murmured, a southern twang in his voice that had you smiling even wider as you lifted a hand in a slight wave.

“Hi..”

He left to get a cart from the back and was careful to load the radio cabinet onto it, using several straps to bind it in place before getting to his feet and dusting off his knees.

“Lead the way, Ma’am.”

_I could get used to that.._

You held the door open for his cart and he smiled sheepishly as he passed through, letting you lead the way to the end of the boardwalk to your sedan. You popped open the trunk with a few clicks to the key fob, smiling a little indulgently as you moved the grocery cooler to the side and helped him situate the cabinet inside of it, making sure it wouldn’t fall out once the door was opened again.

“Thank you,” you murmured, dusting off your hands and already thinking back to the bottles of wood polish that were crowding up the supply closet.

“Will you be staying in McCaysville, long?” he asked curiously. Your head tilted back again and you glanced toward the street as a gaggle of children rushed past kicking a bright green ball.

“Until further notice,” you shrugged.

He helped you finish tying it down with straps for safety and took the initiative to close the very high trunk door for you, as you usually had to climb into the trunk itself and grab the handle to leap down and close it behind you.

“Well,” he gave you a curious look and a more nervous-looking smile as he rocked back on his heels. Seems he wasn’t one for small talk. His fingers curled around the bar of the cart handle and he gave you a semi-awkward mock-bow. “Have a nice day.”

“You, too,” you waved again as he walked off, mildly amused by his awkward demeanor but more focused on your new home and everything that needed done, still.

The drive back was rather uneventful, there were the smattering of birds and squirrels that needed reminding of unsafe road conditions and the sighting of a doe, but not much else for you to internally report.

You made it home with plenty of time to spare for dinner, having snacked on a hot dog at a cart in the market for lunch. Going off of your stadium-dog fumes, you got to work extracting the food and putting it away in the kitchen before returning to your car and hefting the cabinet into your arms with careful focus to your center of balance.

It took a few minutes, but you managed to put it in the living room after leaving all of the doors open, thankful for the bug zappers placed aesthetically on each side of the doorway to minimize the infestation of mosquitoes and/or flies to your new home.

You’d put up some bug strips later, just to be safe.

_Fuck did you hate bugs in your clean spaces.._

Pushing the coffee table off to the side, you put the cabinet in front of the couch and moved to grab the cleaning supplies from the closet beneath the stairwell, picking up a few spare fly strips while you were in there as well as a small metal bucket to use as a makeshift trash bin for the rags you intended to dispose of.

Settling onto the couch, you flicked open Netflix, clicking through a few things that could fill the silence and settling on Supernatural. Because Adonis Hunter reasons.

Your fingers were dusty and smudged black as you scrubbed at the first layer of filth, working through the motions to the tunes of Kansas and Asia, humming along every so often and smiling as the redwood became clearer and clearer.

 _Unbeknownst to you, the owner of the object twitched and shifted, his ever-present smile_ strained _with the urge to snarl aimlessly at the air. The motions against his spirit were thorough but smooth, and while he was almost always aware of his surroundings, he could not for the afterlife-of-him figure out where it was coming from.._

_When he did.._

_Oh, when he did.._

_Nothing would grant the soul mercy.._


	2. Meeting the Deer

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You find you have some.. odd occurrences..  
> But finals are coming up and you have LIMITS, okay?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's the second chapter to give you a taste of the dynamic to come. Comments keep me posting, your words of encouragement are food for my soul.

“And.. there-!” You wiped the sweat from your brow, grinning at the dull wood and the clean surface inside and out, having had a grand old time removing the radio itself to clean  _ that _ and put it back inside. You would need to find a decent varnish and gloss, but that could be done.. You glanced at the clock, and then winced. It was far past a decent time for dinner.

Tomorrow, then..

Getting to your feet, you eyed the old dungarees and t-shirt you’d worn to clean the cabinet, grimacing at the grime on the thing in smudges and thankful you’d thought ahead to change before cleaning it. The small metal bucket was nearly overflowing with black-stained paper towels and wood-cleaning cloths. 

Getting to your feet, you popped your knees and ankles and stretched both arms for the same treatment before dawdling your way to the kitchen. You could finish off that pizza..

Two hours later found you with a fresh towel turban and a fluffy mint-colored bathrobe, toes divided with a foam divider and navy polish shining off of the nails in a fresh coat. 

You’d switched the show to Cake Boss and were absently glancing up every now and then as you alternated between painting your toenails, checking your phone for updates from Chrys and seeing what ridiculous and frankly amazing designs these people came up with and brought to life.

It was nearing one in the morning, and you gave your toes only one more coat of paint before settling back on the couch with your feet propped up along the cushions with a blanket pulled over your lap. Your toes were not happy being out of the promised warmth, but you could deal for twenty minutes.

You leaned back into the propped up pillows and wondered faintly if you were ever going to spend a night in your own damned bed before you thought nothing at all, drifting seamlessly into Morpheus’ sweet embrace to the scent of lemon wood cleaner and nail lacquer.

_ The touching and rubbing had stopped, and Alastor heaved out a sharp, frazzled breath as he looked in the mirror, radio-dial eyes looking back at him with an ominous, red glow. He was thankful it had stopped, but he would spare no thought of forgetting the transgression. He  _ would _ find out what was going on and he would.. _

_ What was that? _

_ In the back of his mind, he could hear voices, not his loa, no, these sounded.. Different..  _ Alive..

_ Well, well, well.. _

_ It seemed someone was trying to summon him topside.. _

_ It had truly been so  _ long _ since he’s seen the blue expanse of the living world.. _

_ It wouldn’t hurt to.. _

_ Pay a visit.. _

_ It wouldn’t hurt  _ him, _ anyway.. _

* * *

When Alastor managed to trace the faint touch and feeling back to the source on the mortal plane, it was during another round of  _ touching-touching-touching. _ Though this time, the touches were far thinner, and were in even, careful strokes along a singular point. Up and down, left to right. Even and slow.

He expected to come to some summoning circle with a dozen or so figures carving methodically at a boar or some such beast.

He expected candles, blood, maybe even a pile or two of bones.

Books, incense..?

_ No. _

No, what he came to see upon slipping into the connection, a radio he had cherished quite dearly in his home before his passing, was a young woman with hair the color of polished sapphires knelt down beside the cabinet and applying  _ varnish _ of all things..

His eye twitched and his smile widened and he stepped back  _ away _ from the very close woman to look down at the..  _ Rather worse for wear.. _ Device..

It was with no small amount of irritation and grief that he noticed the spots of wear and neglect.. But..

His head tilted to the side at a nearly inhuman angle, and he watched her shudder absently and tug the shift further around her shoulders and front before returning to her work..

_ She was.. Restoring it? _

_ Well.. _ the murderous intent he’d felt up until that point lowered to a mere simmer, and he stepped around the small space of plastic on the floor to eye her work from the other side.

It was..  _ Much _ better..

His eyebrows hiked up of their own accord as he looked over the work she was doing, careful strokes he could feel like a distant brush of a feather leaving behind smooth, red varnish in a single coat. He would have been impressed had he not then noticed that she was  _ incredibly _ underdressed.

He recoiled back out of instinct, the back of his knee jolting into a pale tan couch. The woman’s head turned with a startled hum, her eyebrows furrowing as she turned to eye the couch he had bumped into.

_ Oh.. _

_ OH.. _

_ This.. _

_ This could be very entertaining.. _

The smile on his face widened, and he casually summoned his microphone to begin twirling it between his fingers.

After another glance around, the woman went back to her varnish, ignorant of the shudder the demon deer had given at the return of the gentle sensation and unknowingly signing the order for her eventual demise.

_ Alastor truly wouldn’t have been half as harsh on the dame had he not been  _ feeling _ her attention.. _

* * *

Your name is Wisteria Dahlia Jordan, and you are getting a little confused..

The varnish was setting in beautifully, and it would only need a few more days before you were comfortable with giving it a glossy coat. But ever since you’d decided to put the thing in the living room, things have been..

_ Hinky.. _

The doorbell, which would sound when your food delivery would arrive, seemed to glitch in the middle of it’s electronic melody. But that could have easily been explained away by bed wiring or faulty batteries. In which case; easy fix.

You didn’t see anything wrong with the dead animals deciding to croak themselves on your porch. It was  _ Georgia, _ there was gonna be a lot of forest critters poking out of the woodwork to meet their demise. Not to mention the sheer number of  _ cats _ in this portion of the state that would probably see no problem in dropping off dead birds, foxes and raccoons.

There was a prickle on the back of your neck every now and then, but only when you went to the lower floor. You knew the feeling of being watched quite well, so you understood that having floor to ceiling windows on two sides of the house might not have been the smartest move for your grandpa to take when building the damn thing.

_ Nosy neighbors.. _

You wouldn’t have noticed anything  _ actually _ weird, had the remote not mysteriously vanished the same day you decided to start an NCIS marathon..

You had spent an entire  _ hour _ setting up the couch with pillows, blankets and a few stuffed animals propped up for pretend companionship. You’d popped three bags of popcorn into an over-sized bowl, spent the remaining thirty minutes making tuna-salad dip and crackers and piling your armful of candy onto the coffee table, putting the remote directly between the salad and the popcorn for ease of grip. You went upstairs after double-checking that everything was in place, changing into your most comfortable clothes. You came back downstairs to eye your setup again, pale blue sweatpants and a matching hoodie dwarfing you severely as you came to a full halt, eyeing the empty space between the bowl of tuna mush and the bowl of popcorn with vague, uncomprehending eyes.

_..Where did the remote go? _

You systematically destroyed and re-cleaned the living room, then the dining room, then finally the kitchen.

When you found the remote an hour and a half later in the emptied-out cookie jar, you stared at it in silence for several minutes before returning to your make-shift throne, sinking into the pillows and blankets, and finally turning on the television.

Static greeted you for a full six seconds before the picture took hold, and you absently wondered if a technician could do a two-for-one deal and fix both the television and doorbell at once.

* * *

Two weeks passed with the weirdness growing progressively..  _ More annoying.. _

Your keys would disappear off of the key ring by the door almost daily, and you would resort to hot wiring your car if the spare in your purse decided to vanish as well. Usually you would find them once you got home, either sitting innocently on the table or kitchen counter.

Your slippers would be in totally different places, some of your clothes would be inside out in your closet or facing the wrong way.

There was one morning you woke up to all of the kitchen appliances rearranged in the drawers and a butcher’s knife lodged almost aesthetically into a wooden cutting board.

And you would have addressed this weirdness..  _ Really _ , you would have, but-

But you had  _ papers _ due and your  _ finals _ were coming up and you were in  _ no _ mood to start up a conversation with a possible poltergeist.

Invisible animals scratched at your walls so you invested in nonelectric headphones used for plane rides, sleeping straight through the nights.

Until the dreams started, at least.

As soon as you started sleeping up in your own bed, you would be pulled into odd, frequently disturbing dreams.

Things that were gore-y..

Things that would make your sister wet herself in sheer terror.

_ Really, they just annoyed you. _

You’d wake up  _ far _ earlier than you would be comfortable with, so you’d sit up, sigh in exasperation, toss the headphones onto the bed and trudge to your office to work on your schoolwork.

Hours would pass until you’d deemed it time for breakfast, and you’d usually just nick a slice of toast and return to your work, but one particular day, you had thumbed through your phone looking to call a shaman for advice and halted in the living room, blinking stupidly at the open floor. There were no rugs, no tables, no furniture whatsoever..

You had, for a second, thought you’d been robbed, but because you were looking up to see if they’d nicked the wrought-iron chandelier with the electric candles you’d installed two summers ago, you saw the  _ furniture all placed perfectly on the ceiling. _

_ You couldn’t help it.. _

_ You started  _ laughing.

“ _ Hahahahaa _ ..” Your body broke down into startled, disbelieving laughter, your arms winding around your torso as you fell to your knees, staring  _ up _ at the  _ perfect _ living room scene on the high ceiling. “ _ Hahahahahahaa-! This is ridiculous, oh my god..” _

Two presses of the button on your phone and you’d taken several pictures, trailing your eyes to the room one more time before you stuttered out a few more giggles and shook your head, brushing the hair from your face as you continued your trek to the kitchen.

You didn’t even bother turning around as you called out to the absolute  _ madlad _ that was your new roommate.

“Please put everything back as you found it-! A lot of those are heirlooms-!”

After plucking up your toast and practically drenching it in butter, sugar and cinnamon, you returned to the hall to go back upstairs, pausing at the foot of the stairs to look at the living room. The furniture was upright and pristine, the rugs where they should be and the games lined up on the shelf in the correct order.

The only thing that seemed mildly out of place was the red glow coming from the radio inside the open radio cabinet, the dial lit up a bright crimson, letting off the faintest static.

You gave the radio a slow, respectful salute, before shoving the toast in your mouth and returning to your office.

You had a paper due in three days and you did  _ not _ want that hardass of a professor to have any reason to dock you points.

* * *

“God dammit,” you muttered, glaring at the empty key ring by the door before letting out a heavy sigh and moving to set your purse on the small end table with the decorative candle. Your fingers made quick work of searching through it, you didn’t put  _ half _ as much crap in your purse as Chrys tried to every day, lugging around close to seven pounds while you settled for a solid one and a half.

No dice.

Letting out a sigh, you turned on your heel, moving to walk into the living room and bend over until you were eye-level with the glowing red dial. Nothing had changed in the glow since the day before, but you were certain that if there was a poltergeist, it was  _ definitely _ attached to this.

“Excuse me,” you tried for politeness, first and foremost. Nana didn’t raise any hoodlums. “I am in desperate need of groceries.. Is there any way that you could please return my keys to me? Hot-wiring my car is becoming rather tedious each day.. I’d rather not keep shocking my fingers when I’m too tired to watch them closely.”

There was no change to the static, but you could be patient. You’ve sat through Chrysanthemum’s drunken ex-boyfriend bashings, you’ve dealt with Reece’s hangovers and CJ’s panic attacks and Skit’s dissociation episodes.. You could wait out a pesky poltergeist.

Two minutes pass, then three. Then you try again.

“I’m not going to pretend that you’re not attached to this thing. And I’m not going to touch you again, because last time I tried dusting you the window damn near broke opening so fast. If I could have my keys back, I would really appreciate it.”

“.. _ Well, since you’ve asked so nicely.. How could I ever refuse?” _

Okay,  _ hold the phone- _ you thought as a  _ laugh track _ played after the  _ sinfully delicious voice _ came out of the radio, this dude sounded  _ hot _ .

Your eyebrows hiked up your forehead without much thought, and you could hear two distinctive sounds of keys hitting granite in the other room before you casually stood straight again and walked over to pick up the keys now sitting on your counter.

Holding them in your hands for a moment, you thought about it, shrugged, and poked your head back into the living room.

“Thank you. I get that you might not be corporeal or anything, but do you need anything from the store?”

You waited a few more minutes and when there was no response save for a weird record-skip through the speaker after your question, you shrugged and moved to get your purse and leave. “I’ll be back in a few hours-! Please don’t destroy any heirlooms in my absence-!”

Sliding your keys into the ignition felt  _ heavenly _ and you whistled a happy tune as you drove to McCaysville, eager for food and necessities.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Update schedule (Life Willing) will be every Friday.


	3. Chapter 3

You hummed softly as you walked through the aisles in the grocery store, head hung low as you steered the cart with mostly your forearms and eyeing the shelves with curious reluctance. You didn’t have the need to really  _ cook _ much anymore. You weren’t living with Grandpa, Nana, Chrys, Reece, CJ and Skit anymore.. There wasn’t any real reason to  _ try _ so hard..

_ Looks like you could have more opportunities to eat your crazy combinations.. _ The smile that came to your lips was bittersweet. Even you astounded yourself with your culinary genius sometimes, but usually that genius was met with horror from your relatives.

_ Cheetos and Ramen are  _ not _ an act against God-! _

You chuckled softly at your remembered argument with your Nana and twin, stopped abruptly when someone’s cart came sliding in front of yours and a very lost-looking young man let out a startled sound of surprise when he noticed your cart. “Oh, sorry-!” His voice was mildly familiar, and you lifted your eyes to see his flustered expression and-  _ oh, wait.. _

“Uhm.. Evan- no-  _ Ethan _ , right?” you tried, blinking curiously as the young man straightened almost impossibly and hurried to push his glasses up the bridge of his nose, brown eyes seeming almost larger behind the thick black frames.

“Y-Yeah,” he nodded, running his fingers through his mussed brown hair, clearly he’d done it several times today, and glancing instinctively down at your cart. His eyebrows slowly lifted, but he suddenly flushed red and brought his eyes back to your face, likely noted to tampons, you internally chuckled. He tried for words again, stammering a moment as he ruffled his hair and tried not to meet your eyes while also keeping his eyes away from your cart. “You're the lady who bought the radio, right?”

You nodded casually, fixing your posture so you weren’t hunched over like a dork and shifting your weight onto your heels as he continued rambling.

“I was really surprised you bought it, actually, Gran was ranting about it over dinner that she wasn’t able to get rid of it for more than a few weeks at a time before it was always brought back and I didn’t know if you were going to come back and return it because then I’d probably need to help you get it from your car..” his face flushed hard as his voice trailed off and he tried to look her in the eye, smiling sheepishly. “Probably a weird way to hope to see someone again, right?”

_ Huh.. _ you internally felt yourself twitch in surprise.  _ This is new.. _

“Lookin’ forward to seein’ me again?” you repeated, slowly, just to be sure.

His face turned  _ red. Oh my god, he’s adorable.. _

“Yeah, well, you’re the first new person who’s come to stay in quite a while, so..” he murmured, biting at his bottom lip and making you smile back.

“Warm welcome from a cute boy,” you chuckled, “I’m flattered.. Tell your Gran thanks for me again, would you? I finally got the thing clean and my sister adores the necklace I sent her..”

“Oh, of course,” he nodded, quick and sharp, fingers curling around the handle of his cart before he remembered that he was blocking you and he rushed to push it forward and out of your way with a quiet, “ _ Damn. _ Sorry, I forgot I was.. Yeah..” He let out a low, heavy sigh, and you smiled a lot more softly as you reached out a hand and pat the side of his arm. He was in a t-shirt today with his sweatshirt tied around his hips with the sleeves. He was  _ ripped, holy fuck.. _

“Thanks,” you reiterated. “I’ve got a bit more shopping to do, so.. Have a good one?”

“You, too-!” he nodded, even waving a little as she pushed the cart forward and continued down the aisle, smiling to yourself and shaking your head as you heard him muttering to himself about being a socially-awkward dork.

_ You and me both, buddy, you and me both.. _

* * *

Alastor was..

_ At a loss. _

Being at a loss was  _ new _ to him-! He’d  _ never _ been in a situation where he’d been completely stumped by his victim-!

This woman contained  _ incredible _ perseverance, and a very calm, collected attitude that had his head snapping to the side almost  _ daily _ at the sheer  _ ease _ that she navigated his little terror tricks.

_ He thought he would have had her with the furniture on the ceiling trick, but she managed to  _ talk him into giving her keys back _ not a day later-! _

Her laugh was..  _ Surprisingly refreshing.. Which was as irritating as it was amusing, really.. _

She’d only tried to dust him once, when he had hovered around the home as she worked on..  _ Whatever it was she did _ on that blasted miniature television she put on the table. It looked like a television and a typewriter had an affair and reproduced, really.. 

He remembered his loa responding to his agitation at the sudden feeling of  _ smooth, firm _ against his side before a window was crashing and the touching stopped. When he’d phased back into the room with his smile stretched wide and his eyes shining bright red radio dials, he was treated to the sight of her on her rear end in front of the radio, looking startled..

_ But not scared.. _

He noticed the furniture spray almost immediately as she stood up, the rag in her hand being folded carefully before she’d let out a slow, resigned sigh and shook her head. “No touching,  _ alright _ .. Maybe I can look into an extended duster or something..” she was muttering to herself and walking back towards the stairs to put the supplies back in the closet, and Alastor felt himself glitch in a sort of..  _ Not hesitance, surely.. _ What was the word..?

Confusion-! There-!

He was  _ confused _ by this enigma of a human.. Who didn’t respond at  _ all  _ to dreams of his past exploits or makings of fiction mixed with his methods after trying to pluck things from her surprisingly well-guarded mind. He’d even custructed a  _ beautifully  _ detailed rendition of who he thought was her mother being turned to jambalaya in his home kitchen after being carved alive and put in, piece by piece.

_ He could have sworn he’d seen her smile a time or two in that particular one but whenever he’d try to glance over his shoulder to see if she were terrified yet, her face would rapidly become very cool and unmoved by the screams. _

_ This woman was a damn enigma-! _

_ It was riveting-! _

Long had it been since Alastor had been so entertained-!

Why, she’d even asked if he  _ needed anything from the store-! _

It was hilarious-!

And surprisingly thoughtful.

The first attempt she’d made at communicating with him, and she was  _ polite _ of all things. He would have thought she’d scream at him or make demands for him to leave her be..

_ But she’d merely  _ politely _ asked for her keys back.. _

It was mind boggling-!

It was refreshing-!

_ It was pure entertainment-! _

He, of all people, understood the value of heirlooms, so he was, of course, careful to keep the knickknacks and furniture in tact as he played his pranks, her gentle chiding to the air every once in a while almost  _ endearing _ when she would sigh in resignation at a little inconvenience he’d cooked up and simply worked her way around the issue.

The fact that she would nearly spark her hands every morning starting her car without the keys was mildly funny, and well as  _ painfully _ fascinating.

Thoughts of the woman came to a halt as, true to her word, she came home several hours later. Her arms were laden with heavy-looking bags, and he nearly reached out to take them at the door when he remembered that  _ she couldn’t see him- _ and the fact that he really should temper some of those manners if he was going to play with her longer. He may have gotten comfortable exploring this incredibly spacy cabin but that didn’t mean he needed to speed up the process of giving her a heart-attack.

“I’m home-!” Her call was loud, not cheery, but not negative. It was just a call.

She’d tilted her head toward the hallway to the living room as she’d shouted, and Alastor tilted his head as he realized she was calling to  _ him. _

_ Hmm.. _

_ Was she.. Comfortable with him? _

His first thought had obviously been _ that won’t do, _ but it was quickly tempered by an  _ unless.. _

_ Oh, this would be much fun,  _ indeed-!


	4. SNEAK PEEK

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I was SUPER PUMPED to hear that Hazbin Hotel was getting gaslighted for an ACTUAL SERIES-?!?!?!  
> So I made a drawing of what I plan to have for a future story reference..  
> Took like, a day, but I figured a bit of a visual aid teaser was the least I could give you for all of the AMAZING COMMENTS- LIKE-!?!?!?!  
> AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH-!

You all are so beautiful and amazing and I was nearly brought to tears by some of your heartfelt comments. I'm happy that I could provide what I have and what I plan to to sate your thirst for Fluffy Deer Boi in the best way I know.

_and yes.._

_she's soft..._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Toodles My Fabulous Flintlock Fans...


	5. Cumin

You felt eyes on your back as you put the groceries away, humming softly under your breath and making sure all of the cabinets were indeed full of their particular appliances. The poltergeist had rearranged everything once, and while you admit you were a _bit_ lazy and didn’t want to have to reorganize everything, you have to admit that his layout made everything a bit more.. _Smooth_ in the kitchen..

After shutting the door to the fridge, you had in hand a single can of Coke.

Taking a chance, you tried to offer.

“Would you like a soda?”

There was no response, and you waited a moment before shrugging and opening the tab, flinching as it immediately began spraying you in the face.

It drenched you in seconds, and you stood in silence as you heard a laugh track play loudly from the living room direction.. Loud enough that it felt like they were in the damn kitchen with you.

“Okay, okay,” you muttered, moving to put the can in the sink and drag your hands down your face. “Little uncalled for, but funny.. I’ll give you that one..”

You reached blindly for the paper towels, eyes shut tight as it poured from your hair and face to your hoodie.

The role was in your hand in the next moment, and you reflexively gave a _thank you_ as you started to wipe the slick from your eyes.

“ _My pleasure, darling-!”_

You stilled, slowly lowering the towel and turning to your right.

And up.

_And up._

_Fuck he’s tall._

The man in your kitchen was lucky that the ceilings were ten feet high, he looked like he would have to bend in half to fit in the supply closet.

It-they- _he?_ was over six feet, you knew immediately, because _he_ was _way_ taller than Gramps.. Maybe 7-feet-ish?

His entire color scheme was blood red and dark grey. His skin was the grey bit, but his grin shined _gold_ in the kitchen light.

_And what a grin it was.. All sharp, pointy teeth and curled up lips and.._

_Oh, fuck.._

You blinked once, sucked in a breath, blinked again, and let it out slowly. He seemed to think that you planned to scream, because his head tilted to the side like a puppy and you had to inhale slowly _again_ to keep from cooing because _fuck, no one that looked like a Tim Burton character is allowed to be so cute-!_

“ _What’s the matter, dear?”_ his voice _was_ static, as if it were coming from an older radio as he spoke. He held a cane in his hand shaped like one of those old-fashioned microphones, and you idly thought that _maybe_ it wasn’t a prop. _“Cat got your tongue?”_

_Oh my god he has bitty antlers.._

You wanted to _keen_..

“More like a deer,” you murmured quietly.

He seemed taken aback, because a moment later he burst out laughing, loud and happy and grinning and _oh damn, he’s got a monocle and a bowtie- what the fuck-_

“ _Darling, you are truly entertaining-!”_ he wiped a nonexistent tear from his other eye and gave her a slight bow of greeting. _“I’d like to thank you for doing such a bang-up job of restoring my radio, I dare say I’ve not seen it look this good since the thirties-!”_

“You’re welcome,” you offered, manners instilled since toddlerhood keeping you standing with your back straight and your eyes locked on his. Slowly, you held out your hand, unwilling to take your eyes off of his red-on-red ones. “Hi, nice to meet you.”

“ _The pleasure is_ all _mine,”_ he assured you, reaching out his own hand and shaking it firmly. You were mildly concerned about the tension in his grip but it was over almost as soon as it had started. _“I dare say I should apologize for my manners, I’ve been here for so long and I’ve not even learned your name, my dear.”_

“It’s Wisteria,” you offered, after a moment of thinking _this might as well happen, adult life is already so goddamn weird.._ “And who might you be?”

“ _Alastor, dear, quite the pleasure to meet you,”_ he gave you a closed-eye-smile for a moment before he was back to continuing to grin down at you with those shining golden teeth. “ _I must say you are the most fascinating human I’ve had the pleasure of meeting in a long while..”_

“Oh, well, thank you?” You tried to focus on the lilt of his words but your curiosity for the macabre was creeping up on you with severe insistence. “May I ask a personal question, Mr Alastor?”

“ _Hmm_ ,” he seemed incredibly _pleased_ by your manners, smiling in that constant way of his with his eyes narrowed ever so slightly. “ _You may ask, but I cannot guarantee an answer.”_

“Fair enough,” you nodded, folding your arms across your chest, painfully aware of the soda and resolving yourself to a shower after the conversation. “I was just wondering, are you a poltergeist or a demon? I’m not asking to be rude, I promise..”

He laughed again, a laugh track playing in the background and around the two of you as he tilted his head the other direction, reaching out a hand to give you a dark maroon square of cloth you hadn't seen him pull from a hidden pocket. “ _I’m a demon, dear. Wonderful guess-!”_

You took the cloth with a soft _thank you_ , and began wiping at your face and neck, mildly surprised to find that it was clearing away the soda a lot more thoroughly than you would have expected from something that felt like silk.

 _“Might I ask, dear,”_ he leaned down carefully until he was just a few inches from your face, his red, red eyes gazing deeply into yours and his smile widening ever so slightly at the corners. _“What do you plan to do with this information?”_

You blinked slightly, not quite used to the invasion of personal space but not quite _against_ it, carefully finishing off the last of your slick skin before carefully folding it and looking back into his eyes. He seemed faintly tense when you’d looked down to the cloth, but the tenseness had vanished when you’d returned your full attention to him.

“Nothing really,” your shrug caused a record skip, and your head tilted at the curious sound as his blank-smiling face seemed to inch away from you just the slightest bit. “I didn’t really get an answer from you earlier, but is there anything I should be getting for you at the store? Now that I can see you, and hold this cloth, I’m guessing you’re corporeal enough to eat..”

“ _You plan to feed me.._ ” his words were almost a _purr_ as he leaned closer again, the red shifting in front of her very eyes and becoming almost exact replicas of the radio dial in the living room. It was.. _Incredibly fascinating to watch.._

“Well, I mean I bought enough to last me a week or so, but there’s definitely some beef I can cook up for tacos tonight,” you offered.

He blinked at you, radio dials disappearing. His head tilted to the side again, his fluffy red hair with the dark maroon almost black tips swaying with the motion. The two bits on top of his head- _oh my god his ears- they’re so fluffy-_ twitched with your words.

“Tacos..” he tried the word, and there was an obvious lack of static as the microphone lowered away from his chest.

“Well yeah, I planned on making enough for the week.” Your words seemed to be going over his head. He was staring so _intensely_ at you, as if you’d burst out laughing and scream that it was all a joke and start throwing things at him to banish him from your home.

“Speaking of, do you have any allergies I should be aware of?” Your realization had brought immediate concern to your voice and you clenched your fist around the cloth between your fingers. “I’m so sorry- there might’ve been something in that spray..”

 _“No allergies, dear,”_ and the static was back, his back straightening almost entirely as he used his elbow to hold the microphone and fixed his bowtie with his hands. “ _Though that’s very thoughtful of you to ask..”_

“What about.. Salt?” you frowned even as you said it, looking worried, “I use it in a lot of food..”

“ _While that is very kind of you to mention,”_ his face had taken a begrudging amusement as he began to wander your rearranged kitchen, _“Salt is only truly effective against far weaker spirits.. It is nearly pointless on it’s own against someone of my caliber.”_

“That’s good,” you sighed, mildly relieved as you set the cloth onto the counter, intending to wash it later, “I would have had to figure out what to do with the stuff in the pantry.. There’s a whole bag of it and it’s not exactly cheap anymore..”

You looked irritated as you said this, but he was conscious of the fact that you were glaring at the window and were more upset with the prices in general. You didn’t seem the _least bit scared.. It was astounding!_

 _“You would have been willing to throw away a possible weapon if I had said it would hurt me?”_ the very _idea_ of it being so sent him chuckling, _“That seems a tad foolish, all things considered, darling..”_

“Oh, don’t get me wrong-!” You perked up to attention when he’d addressed you again, holding out your hands and shaking them for emphasis, “I promise I’m not trying to presume anything about you-! I know you’re powerful- maybe not to an exact extent, but anyone who can perfectly replicate our chaotic living room onto the ceiling _has_ to be extraordinary- it’s just..”

 _“You don’t seem at all afraid..”_ his murmur was more thoughtful than anything else, his eyes straying to the soda clinging to your hoodie and splashing the kitchen. With a click of his fingers you felt a warmth brush against you, hair to shoes, and blinked quickly as you watched a wave of writhing, darkened shadow blobs and creatures flutter through your kitchen before disappearing again.

“One would think..” his radio’s voice had lowered but his voice seemed far more attentive as he walked up to you to stand toe-to-toe with your now completely clean self. “ _That you were being a tad impudent..”_

Static and white noise filled the space, and you sucked in a low breath at the pressure in the room as his eyes turned to dials and his horns lengthened ever so slightly. Red sigils flashed in and out of view- and while Chrys may have screamed, may have reached for a knife or passed out. You-

_You were in awe.._

“I’m sorry if you’re getting that impression,” you murmured, dipping your head in a respectful nod before you watched all of the _terror tactic_ clip away into his blank-faced, closed-mouth grin again. “I don’t mean to be disrespectful in any way.. Like I said, you’re clearly very powerful.. It’s just.. Not possible for me to be afraid..”

There was a shift, and suddenly something sharp was pressed into your throat, pushing you back until the small of your back was pressed against the small strip of granite that separated the open kitchen space and the double basin sink.

Your air flow wasn’t cut off, you were merely being pressed back into the counter. Had you had the space to notice, Alastor’s gloved hand would show his claws pressing dangerously into your windpipe, his hand large enough to wrap entirely around your slim neck and then some.

You blinked up at him once, then twice, seeing his unchanging smile as he grinned that golden-toothed grin. Head tilted ever so slightly and his red, red eyes narrowed, watching for every minute change of expression.

* * *

Surprise, he noticed first. Then confusion, before it settled on..

_She was amused.._

“I’m sorry, Mr Alastor,” she murmured, _respectful, always so respectful.._ “But I really think you don’t understand.. I _physically_ cannot feel fear.. I promise I’m not being impudent or putting on a false bravado. I’m not brave. And I can never _be_ brave.. Being brave means that you are overcoming a fear.. I have.. _That is to say_.. In my head, the physical place where the chemicals for fear are made.. They’ve been disfigured since I was born..”

His grip loosened with every sentence that passed her lips.. He breathed the air around them in, silently, slowly, tasting for a lie..

_..She wasn’t lying.._

“I promise I’m not trying to disrespect you,” she assured him in a firm, _polite polite polite_ voice, “I can even show you a small article on my condition if you’d allow me to get my laptop computer..”

_Asking him for permission, even to-_

Alastor felt the oddest urge..

His hands were on her cheeks before he could help himself, pinching at the soft, giving flesh and stretching it firmly. _But not hard- she was ever so polite-_

 _“Smile, my dear,”_ he chirped, grinning down at her as he kept the smile on her face. “ _You’re never fully dressed without one-! You’ve been a wonderful host to me, truly, and I appreciate your fine manners-! I’d love to take a look at the article, if you have it on hand-!”_

He let go of her cheeks, watching, waiting..

Her fingers went up to smoosh at her own cheeks, but the smile.

_The smile stayed.._

_She was.._

_Peculiar.._

“I’ll go get my laptop,” she grinned, giving him a small wave before carefully stepping around him, giving him a good berth of space and wandering further into the house.

 _Tacos.._ He mused, remembering the phenomenon catching interest in the country around the time of his demise.. _I can’t recall if I’ve ever had one.._


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I got bored, so.....

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNING: CONTAINS THE IMAGE OF A DEMON IN POSSESSION OF A KNIFE  
> DO NOT TRY THIS AT HOME  
> THANK YOU

I promise the chapter is a lot better than my crappy drawing.


	7. Chapter 7

“ _What is_ that?”

The radio garble cut into your humming, and you turned to see your roommate- _you have a roommate!-_ standing in the mouth of the kitchen, smile still up but his eyes narrowed at the pan in front of you. You had a small canister of Cumin powder in one hand and a spatula in the other, working the beef in the pan into a fine brown color, you periodically seasoned it.

“Oh, it’s beef,” you nodded, continuing to shake and cut and smash. “It’ll be done in.. maybe fifteen minutes..? I like to let it simmer a little to absorb the cumin and oil before draining it.. Do you have a particular topping you like on your tacos?”

“..I don’t believe I’ve ever had one.”

If you had the ability to make the noise, a record would have given a harsh skip.

“I’m sorry, you _haven’t_ ,” you repeated, sounding mildly shocked and mostly in pain. “That is going to be rectified, thank the spirits.. If you wouldn’t mind, could you take a look in the fridge? I’ve got fresh tomatoes, fresh lettuce, block cheddar, sour cream and.. _Maybe I can whip up some pico de gallo.._ Oh, but you’re probably pretty hungry now.. Might have to make that a venture for another day..” You sighed, shook your head, and gave the demon standing curiously in front of the stainless steel fridge a smile. “So, if you could get those things out, that’d be a big help.. _Or_ you could grab the plates.. Unfortunately, when you rearranged things, it didn’t really account for my vertically-challenged self.”

A laugh track played as Alastor grinned, and his coat seemed to fly off of his shoulders itself before he was rolling up the sleeves of his fine white dress shirt and opening the cabinets and drawers to pull out the dining wear.

You were mildly surprised to see him pulling out the fine white china with the delicate, colorful flower filigree, but to each their own.

True to your word, fifteen minutes later you were draining the meat, having grated the block of cheese by hand and carefully arranged the items into a small taco-bar on the counter after handing Alastor a knife when he’d asked to help and set him to chop a handful of lettuce leaves and tomatoes.

He’d looked tickled by the fact that you were giving him a pointy object but you didn’t really catch on for the reason why. If he wanted to kill you, he had claws, teeth, and supernatural power. The last thing you had to worry about was a knife.

The chopped lettuce and tomatoes turned out beautifully, and you gave a small whistle of appreciation before washing your hands and filling a sink with warm suds to start soaking the dishes.

“Alright.. Now to _build_ them. This is the fun part-!”

Alastor watched closely as you loaded up a tortilla after flame-brushing it on the stove with a pair of tongs, smearing the sour cream onto the warmed wheat disk and adding meat, grated cheese, a few tomato slices, and a good portion of lettuce. His eyes watched your hands intently as you folded the disk, expertly tucking the ends in and neatening it up with a few pats before putting your hands on your hips with a proud smile. “And done-! Now you try-!” You gave him an encouraging smile, and the demon watched you for a few moments more before turning to his own plate. He followed your example carefully, minus the sour cream.

His folds were ridiculously slow, and he seemed to want to make it perfect. Finally he managed with a few more tucks, looking delighted but surprised as he held his plate up for inspection. You clapped with appropriate awe.

“And now, we _enjoy_ ,” you nodded sagely, picking up your plate and perching yourself onto the bar stool for the kitchen divider.

“ _My dear, you plan to eat here?”_

“Oh,” you looked up in surprise, hands halfway poised to attack the taco-wrap like some kind of bird of prey. “Did you want to eat in the living room?”

He looked taken aback, as if he didn’t understand the words coming from your mouth. “My dear, there is a _perfectly_ capable dining room ten feet to your left..”

“Well, yes,” you agreed, not really seeing his point but picking up your plate anyway. “My apologies, I’ve really only ever eaten there for special occasions.. Usually everyone would eat at the kitchen bar table or in the living room.. There’s something relaxing about being able to sit closer together and enjoy a meal with music or a show as background noise..”

“While I completely agree with the music part,” he chuckled, somehow managing to one-handedly hold his own plate while his other hand settled on the small of your back and led you into the dining room, toward the long table with the soft blue tablecloth. He lifted his hand from your back for a moment, and you heard an odd _snap_ sound from behind you. You looked over your shoulder, seeing his fingers settle again onto the small of your back, and when you turned forward again-

“ _I prefer dining with the refinement a well-made meal deserves_.”

_The room looked different._

The table was far more small, and round, with two chairs of high-back wood with elegant carvings of deer skulls in the upper portions and blood-red cushions on the seat and back. The tablecloth itself was a deep red, and the centerpiece was a bouquet of red and black roses with two candles in slim silver holders sat on either side of it, giving the room a faint glow. Music played from an unseen source, something soft but upbeat and jazzy.

“Uhm..” your voice trailed off as you eyed the setup, the plate held carefully in front of you and your taco slowly but surely growing cold. “Okay.. This is going to sound _horribly_ offensive, but it’s a common saying here.. Could you.. _maybe_ dial the ambiance back.. About two.. _maybe_ three notches..?”

His eyebrows hiked up, but with a second snap the table seemed to become wider by at least a foot, the cloth turned white, and the bouquet was replaced by a single black rose.

The room was also given a brighter glow with the chandelier above the table giving off a warm golden light.

“Perfect,” you smiled, surprised overtaking your features as he gave his plate to a blobby shadow to put on the table before drawing out one of the chairs and gesturing towards you.

“Such a gentleman,” you murmured, taking the seat with care after giving him a mild curtsy and adjusting your plate as he pushed the seat in.

“I do try,” he grinned, settling himself into the seat opposite of you and picking up his fork and knife.

Your sudden laughter gave him pause, and he looked toward you with confusion and mild surprise as you held your wrap in two hands, cradling it as if it were a small forest animal, like a chipmunk.

“You’re meant to eat it like this..” you gesture with your fingers to the wrap on his plate. “While it’s incredibly charming to see you eat a _taco_ of all things with utensils, I hope you don’t mind if I eat it the traditional way.”

* * *

“Far be it from me to disrupt your routine, my dear,” he chuckled.

The way she giggled back was.. _He didn’t have a word for it. He’d think of it later._

He watched from the safety of his eyelashes as she carefully bit into the tightly-wrapped morsel, a smile lighting up her face as she ate carefully and slowly, chewing near silently and pausing every so often to sip at the glass of water he’d poured earlier into wine glasses. He would have offered wine, but he didn’t know what could go with a _taco.._

His first bite was an explosion of spice and savory meat. He was mildly surprised to taste the fresh _crunch_ of tomatoes and lettuce and the surprising _delight_ of warm cheese added to the mix. _This was ingenious-!_

* * *

Every so often he would look up to see you savoring your food, eyes closed and your chews slowing as you worked through the bite, truly tasting it.

You’d finished around the same time, so as you were patting your lips clean with a wine-red napkin Alastor decided to break the semi-silence.

“My dear, I simply _must_ ask.. What do you think you’re going to gain from all of this?”

You hummed, more surprised than anything else as you glanced at the shadows creeping up the corners and the glowing yellow eyes watching the scene intently.

“Well.. company, I suppose.”

_Alastor.. Didn’t expect that answer._

_You weren’t even fibbing._

“ _Company?”_ he repeated.

“Well, I’m pretty much in self-isolation out here, it’s not like I _want_ to not be around people but I have a very limited amount of patience for morons and my lack of fear kind of gives me a ‘who cares’ reaction where consequences are implied.. If I could have gotten away with it, I would have stabbed _so_ many people in highschool.. My sister is _lucky_ we shared most of our classes every year..”

You took a sip of water as you let Alastor process this, the polite smile on his face clashing cutely with the wide red of his eyes, almost _doe-like_ in their absolute astonishment.

Seeing him speechless, you continued with your explanation.

“It’s nice to be able to sit with someone and not be worried about if I’d have the urge to stab them. Really you’re incredibly entertaining and respectful and while I would prefer if my things didn’t go missing all the time, I can’t fault you for wanting to get a rise out of me. You probably don’t have much to do stuck in a radio all day.. Boredom is killer.”

“ _I agree.._ ”

His smile widened, and his eyes narrowed, but you could tell that he was _actually_ agreeing with your sentiment. He raised his water to you, and you held out your own to clink lightly with his.

“ _To entertainment-!”_ Alastor proposed with a grin, eyes flicking shut in his apparent delight. “ _And good company-!”_

“Here, here,” you agreed, sipping the last of your drink and standing to gather the dishes.

“ _Ah-ah, my dear..”_ The dishes were out of your hands with a touch of shadow and your shoulders were cupped by large leather gloved hands. You could feel the pointed tips of claws where they brushed your muscles, his palms handling most of your shoulders in an odd, overly large sort of gesture as he turned you towards the hallway and started to push you forward with his long-legged strides. _“My little friends can handle the clean-up.. I believe you had another article you wanted to show me..?”_

“Of course,” you nodded, going along with his pushing with no hint of unease. Chrys had steered you this way a _lot_ growing up, so it wasn’t unfamiliar. “I’ll just have to bring it up on the laptop, or I could print it out if you’d prefer paper.. _I’m pretty sure I remembered to set up my printer.._ ” the last part was murmured to yourself in faint thought. You couldn’t remember off the top of your head if you had actually set it up again, or not.

 _“Anything is fine..”_ Alastor assured you, “ _You’ve gotten me quite curious..”_

* * *

_Two weeks with a demon and things were.._

_Normal, surprisingly._

“Hey, Alastor?” You called out curiously, raising your voice to be heard on the first floor, where your new roommate was reading on the settee next to a burning fire, or at least that was how you left him a few hours ago. “Do you think you could come here for a second?”

You were barely able to blink before he was directly in your personal space. The automatic step-back you’d taken to counteract against the issue brushed aside by the arm winding itself comfortably around your shoulder. “ _What can I do for you, my dear?”_

His radio mic was angled in the crook of his arm, the book he’d been reading tucked beneath his other one, while he grinned down at you brightly with his red, red eyes.

“I was hoping for your opinion on this,” you gestured to the door in front of you, a plain oak thing with a brass knob. You pushed it open carefully, showing Alastor the inside with a mild wave of your hand. “I had an epiphany a few hours ago that I’ve never seen you sleep.. Figured I’d at least _offer_ a better room..”

 _“My dear, you are far too kind,”_ a pinch emphasized his words as he tugged at your cheek, the smile coming unbidden as you waited for him to finish pulling at your face before waltzing in with a lyrical hum. A tune you’d never heard, but found oddly catchy in the moment.

As he inspected the newly-cleaned furniture - _he could smell the fresh sheets and the furniture polish, surely the very moment she’d had the thought of offering the room she’d rushed to clean it, first-_ he glanced out the window to see a view of the lake and the surrounding forest. He knew the office across the hall had a spectacular view of the mountain range and lake, and he assumed her bedroom did as well, though his visits inside of it to - _unsuccessfully-_ mess with her dreams had each time been darkened by thick black curtains on the windows.

“You can decorate it however you’d like,” you assured him calmly, leaning against the doorframe with your arms folded over your chest. “Anyway, I’d figure this would be a good peace offering for my request..”

At the word _request_ , Alastor snapped his head in her direction, making you giggle in a startled, surprised way as you looked upon his one-eighty head spin.

“Woah there-! Nothing bad-! I’ve just got finals in a few weeks, so I’m going to need you to lay off the fun for a while..”

“ _Finals_ ?” his eagerness for a sudden deal was doused but his curiosity had been piqued. “ _I was unaware that you were attending classes_..?”

“I take them online,” you shrugged, frowning as you plucked at the lint you found on your hoodie sleeve. “I’ll watch the lectures through video and submit my papers and take tests and things over the screen.. My group projects are usually cancelled out of my grades and I’m just given more papers to write.. I don’t want to make anything difficult between us, we’re finally developing a routine, it’s just.. It’s getting hectic and I should really focus a bit more on my studies so I can pass my final..”

“ _Say no more, dear,_ ” His hand patted your shoulder, and you looked up in confusion to feel both of his hands return to your face, tugging until you had begun to giggle softly again. “ _You were far too underdressed to be lounging at the door of a gentleman.. Smile-! I’ll be sure to take care of your study time-! I admire your diligence in obtaining your schooling degrees-!”_

“Has anyone ever said you talk in exclamation points a lot,” you asked through his pulling, waiting until he’d let go to rub at your cheeks, your skin feeling warm to the touch and your smile soft. “Thank you, Alastor. I appreciate it. I promise, when my finals are over, we’ll do something super fun together, okay?”

“ _Looking forward to it, darling.._ ”


	8. ARE YOU SEEING THIS-?!?!

This absolutely wonderful, AMAZING girl messaged me on here asking to make a redraw of my previous boredom-brought scene in the kitchen, and of course I said 'Yes, please-!' so we've been talking and she's been walking me through her progress and GUYS-?!?! IT'S, LIKE, AMAZING-!??!?!

ARE YOU SEEING THIS-?!?!? 

| | | | | | | | | | | | | | | |

V V V V V V V V V V V 

<https://www.instagram.com/p/CEP_T6sHE6R/>

THIS IS GORGEOUS

THIS IS AMAZING-!

THIS LADY IS FREAKING TALENTED AND YOU SHOULD ALL SEE HER OTHER AMAZING THINGS HERE-!

| | | | | | | | | | | |

VVVVVVVVVVVV

Here's her instagram:

TheyWhoShallNotBeNamed

@kadieblue_

Here's Her Ao3:

kadieBlue

https://archiveofourown.org/users/kadieBlue/pseuds/kadieBlue

This woman is amazing, like seriously

LOOK HOW CUTE ALLIE IS-! HE HAS A KNIFE HE HAS NO RIGHT TO BE THAT ADORABLE-!

Thank you again, Dove, your work is INCREDIBLY appreciated and AMAZING.

Pistol Out.


	9. Another Sneak Peek

A scene from the next chapter. Just a bit of a taste.. :P

"So how would you kill her?"

"Really, my dear?"

"Come on, my cousins and I play this game all the time-!"


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Extra long chapter because the fanart from kadieBlue_ made me feel generous.

Day one of pure studying was..

_ Well, it was awful, but you were stubborn as fuck and you weren’t going to let a shitty professor ruin modern literature for you.. _

Hours passed with you flipping through your textbooks and clicking at your mouse, your eyes feeling dry and your joints protesting their lack of use and the need for lotion.

_ You really needed some lotion, actually.. _

With a heavy sigh, you slid out of your chair and moved to pull on your slippers and exit your room, intent on grabbing a soda and some brain-food.

A mouthwatering smell blasted you in the face as you hauled open your door, nose sniffing excitedly at the air as something  _ divine _ seemed to drift through the air of your home.

Walking down the steps at a quick trot, you swung yourself through the doorway into the open kitchen and pulled up short, breath catching in your throat and a hand slapping over your face to hide your startled smile.

Alastor stood over a tall, hardy iron pot in your Grandma’s frilled edged pink apron that hung on a hook in the pantry, humming brightly to himself as a song played over the air around him, one foot tapping to the beat as he moved the tool in his hand, it was either a ladle or a spoon, you couldn’t tell from that distance, only that it was wood.

“Smells good,” you sighed, breathing in the heady scent and trying to pick it apart. You could see a bag of rice sitting on the counter beside a number of other things, and before you could open your mouth to ask, the demon’s bright, record-scratch-esque voice was overtaking the music.

“I was starting to wonder if you’d died in there-!”

A laugh track played, but the laughter from your own throat had beat it before it could even start.

“Working hard, I take it?” Alastor asked, giving you a glance over his shoulder but casually throwing spices into the pot with his other hand, the motion so easy with his wrist that you knew he’d made an art of it.

“It feels pretty helpful, I suppose,” you sigh, folding your arms onto the kitchen bar table and settling onto a stool so you could easily bury your face in your arms. “Doesn’t mean the headache is any less..”

“Good thing I took the liberty to make dinner, then-!” Alastor chirped, giving the mixture a few more hearty stirs before setting the  _ ladle _ aside on the small dish holder for it and killing the burner beneath it. “This is my mother’s recipe for Jambalaya. The kick is straight out of hell and should give you quite the kick, too!” The laugh track was expected, and you simply grinned at the jokes, eager to smell the delightful aroma again.

“You’re too good to me, Alastor,” you murmured, lifting your head to sniff at the air and cuddle further into your arms with a near silent purr. “My headache is already clearing up..”

* * *

_ This is hell.. _ the ache in your shoulders and back was verging on the point of unbearable, but you were two pages short on your thesis paper and you were four quizzes short of a finished term in your Calculus II class.

_ Why couldn't all of your classes be as fun and simple as Coding was? _

You groaned in muted pain as you pressed your forehead to the desk, fingernails digging into the wood as you took slow, deep breaths in and out. You could last one more night of this, you were sure, then you'd take the weekend to recharge. There was a nice spa place two towns over that had your name on the hot towels and sauna.

You'd probably treat yourself to the candy shop next door, too, if you weren't going to pull your own leg. Gathering strength, you lifted your head to eye the semi-blurry numbers in the bottom right hand corner of your laptop monitor. You'd need to set up your desktop at some point, but at the moment you were a bit too hassled to dig out the many machines necessary for that particular endeavor.

_ Ah shit, it’s time to make dinner.. _

Letting out a heavy sigh, you pushed yourself off of the desk and pulled on your slippers, trudging your way to the door and slipping out of your office with a muted thump of your shoulder against the frame. You inwardly cursed, mindful of your volume as you worked your way down the steps and into the kitchen. Alastor was nowhere to be seen, and you couldn’t hear him, so you figured you would get started by checking out the ingredients that you-

The fridge, with it’s white-washed glow, bathed you in it’s familiar light and comfort, only to cruelly  _ destroy you _ at the sight of the bare shelves.

_ There was an orange and a half-finished jug of Sunkist. _

_ What the actual fuck.. _

“Store it is, then,” you murmured, turning to go grab your keys and halting at the sight of the key ring being empty.

_ Not this shit again. _

_ “Alastor?” _ you called, wandering into the living room and finding the familiar red glow of the dial completely absent. “Hey, Alastor, where are my keys?”

When you heard no response, not even static, you huffed, glanced at your clothes, _ it was Sunday, did you really care? _ \- and deemed your rumpled tracksuit sufficient for a market run.

One problem..

_ Your car was gone. _

“Alastor-?!.. Was it you or was I robbed?!”

_ The door was still locked and the valuables were still settled around the rooms.. A burglar wouldn’t really hesitate to take the gold-gilded plates in the display cabinet for wedding-use only.. _

_ “Alastor, I’m serious- where’s my car-?!” _

* * *

“I have a question..”

“I may have an answer,” the heavily radio-toned voice chuckled behind you, while you sat at the kitchen bar, a peeler in hand as you carved the skin from the potatoes.

“Where did you learn to drive?”

“I was quite well-paid as a radio host, I purchased a vehicle before the stock market crash of 1929 and made good use of it to bring my mother places she needed to go.”

“That’s sweet,” you murmured, setting aside the long, curly peel and silently proud of yourself for perfecting the trick your grandfather taught to all of the grand kids by the time they were eight. It made presentation scores lift, at least.

“My, I’ve never seen it done that way,” Alastor’s voice seemed surprised as he hovered over you from behind your shoulder, watching the way you lifted the potato up in one hand for inspection and delicately grasped the end of the spiral peel in the other between your thumb and forefinger. “Marvelous technique, where did you learn?”

“My grandfather is a wonderful cook,” you informed him, smiling faintly as you twisted the potato in the light of the kitchen hanging lamps. “He would have us help out in the kitchens for dinner. Nana made breakfast and fixed up lunch, but dinner was Gramp’s time to shine in the kitchen and it showed.. He taught all the grand kids how to chop, dice, mince, carve, everything you could think to prep something a certain way.. Then he taught us how to stir it or brisk it or make sure it settled right.. Some of my happiest memories are of skinning the fish we caught to make stew and helping him ladle it into bowls so we could all eat out on the patio..”

“You sound fond of your grandparents.”

“They’re all I had growing up,” you shrugged, reaching for another potato to begin the smooth carving process again. “Well, plus my sister and cousins.”

“Your.. parents?” he tried.

“My mother and her sister deafened our cousin Skit as an infant and tried to go cross-country in an effort to say ‘f-you’ to our grandparents after our fathers, also siblings, died in Iraq.” You shrugged off the information that had come to mind in an effort not to ruin your good mood. “The evil incarnate women got slammed with three life sentences for about forty different broken laws that were connected to their fingerprints plus the..  _ Care _ we endured under them until we were seven.. Me and my sister.. Reece was older and CJ was three years behind us.. But Skit was just a baby when all this went down..”

Your face had fallen into something painfully melancholy as you finished the potato with a flick of your wrist and simply held it, staring at the shiny surface of the root vegetable in your palm. “They committed a double-suicide three months in after getting relentlessly assaulted in the women’s prison.. I’m assuming for their treatment of children and overall attitudes.. Those bitches didn’t get nearly enough pain for what my cousin has to go through every day.. Her ears were damaged so bad, that the only hearing aids she can use are custom-made.. She can barely stand them because of how they give her sound. She has anxiety and having so much sound all at once can break her in the worst of ways some days..”

You set the peeler down and put the last potato into the bowl to be washed off again. “All I can do is be thankful that I will never have to see them again..”

“They’re likely in Hell,” Alastor pointed out, picking up the bowl of potatoes and watching as you gathered the peeling spirals to bind them in tinfoil. “And while I can argue that being cozy with a demon puts you in an iffy spot, I have to admit that you are  _ painfully _ aware of your virtues and vices and will likely take a straight ticket upwards when you eventually bite the dust.”

“Aww, Allie,” you cooed, mood lifted as you turned in your chair and winked at him when his ear twitched in mild agitation, “Is that your roundabout way of saying that you think I’m nice?”

“I wouldn’t test me, dear,” he warned with an ominous chuckle.

“Ahh, but you would,” you snapped your fingers, leaning forward to prop your chin in your hands and grin at him. “If only for the sheer entertainment you would get out fighting someone exactly your equal in power and  _ sass..” _

_ “Do you want me to grill these infant pig ribs or not?” _

“Yes, please~!” you sang.

* * *

“You’ll like this,” you murmured, clicking the remote as you passed Alastor his own bowl of popcorn and the Cajun powder he liked to add to it. The screen brought up Netflix and you reached into your own popcorn-M&M mixture for a mouthful before slipping into the search bar for a second.  _ Corpse.. _

“I’m delighted already,” Alastor chirped, taking a loud, magnified-by-radio-static crunch and chewing with a catchy hum as he settled at his side of the couch, wrapped in a fluffy red blanket you’d found at the store that had a dark brown and faint white flannel pattern on it. Perfect for a deer demon.

You clicked the movie you wanted, propped your slipper-covered feet on the coffee table and pulled your own fluffy green monstrosity around your shoulders as the movie began.

_ “It’s a beautiful day~” _

_ “It’s a rather nice day..” _

_ “A day for a glorious wedding~!” _

* * *

“That was..” The static in his voice matched Alastor’s torn, grinning but  _ torn _ face. 

_ Delightfully enchanting.. Painfully naive in some areas but also incredibly gorgeous attention to detail.. _

“Fun?” you prodded with a grin.

“Fun,” he settled with a faint nod, looking over at you for a moment as if he didn’t really notice you before that moment. “And you say.. That there are  _ more _ of these..?”

“Oh my god, we need to watch Nightmare Before Christmas,” you gasped in horror, already  _ flying _ to the movie rack to see if you still had your- “Hah-! I still have my Blu Ray disk of Frankenweenie-!  _ Oh- _ you are gonna love Beetlejuice and Alice in Wonderland, the film adaptation makes everything  _ phantasmal. _ ”

“On with the show,” he murmured, looking down at his empty bowl before getting to his feet, “After a refill of course..”

“And I should probably powder my nose, too,” you grumbled, sounding mildly annoyed at the inconveniences of the mortal body before you were tossing the walking demon’s back a glance. “Could you grab some more Mountain Dew soda from the  _ fridge _ , please? Last time I asked for some Mountain Dew from you, you handed me a bucket of water.”

“There is a mountain within leaping distance, dear, you’ll forgive me if my genius is too much for you.”

“........ _ Wait a minute _ -”

The laugh track carried him out of sight.

* * *

“FREEDOM-!”

Alastor  _ jumped _ in his seat on the end of the couch, book bouncing in his grip as he looked to the other far end to see his..  _ Roommate, oh the ridiculous title, _ bouncing on the cushion and shaking her arms up and down with a beaming, elated grin of her white teeth.

“NO-! MORE-! SCHOOL-!”

She did a few more excited jabs into the air before completely collapsing into the cushions, her long, lush blue hair spilling out of it’s messy top-knot and nearly brushing his thigh as she fell face-first into the cushions and went slack.

He waited a moment, watching her breathe shallowly but remain silent.

“ _M_ _ y dear?” _ he asked with a mild chuckle, using the book to turn her head to face him.  _ “Are you dead..?” _

_ “Never should have let you watch Smurfs..” _ her mutter was almost mutinous and the laugh track played quietly in the background as her tired eyes fluttered open to look at him from her sprawled angle. “I’m free..”

“I heard,” he nodded, setting the book aside and twirling his microphone into existence. “How will we be celebrating?”

“I’m going to sleep for two days,” you murmured, closing your eyes and digging your face further into the comfortable leather and soft throw pillow. “Then we can talk about finding a jazz club or something.. I want to drink away the remains of my Finals Anxiety and party like it's 1925..”

Alastor’s laughter was loud and happy and he patted the top of your head indulgently before reaching for his book again to continue reading.  _ Something something for dummies.. Was it televisions? _

“Whatever you say, dear.. Now rest.. You’ve earned it..”

* * *

“I didn’t know this was a game that modern women enjoyed playing on walks around town,” Alastor’s voice lacked it’s usual radio-rasp and was clean and clear and  _ human _ in its nuances as he led you around the large park in McCaysville, Georgia. The day was warm with a gentle breeze and the skirt of your white sundress fluttered behind you with the wide brim of your white sunhat shielding you from any sunburn.

“It’s fun,” you assured him, “My sister and I play it all the time.. The rules are simple; you can’t overthink it, and you can’t be out of realistic proportions. Your answer may need some clarification, but if you manage to answer it all cleanly, then you win that turn.”

“Very well,” Alastor nodded, brown curls bouncing in the motion as his ever-present smile widened a fraction. “Alright my dear.. Do your worst..”

“Okay..” you murmured, dragging your eyes around the few dozen people with the same idea as the two of you, enjoying the nice summer weather with a walk in the park. There were dozens of children climbing on the jungle gym and a handful of people walking their dogs.

You pointed to an older woman in her late forties-or-so with a pink tracksuit that had  _ Juicy _ in sparkling cursive on the ass and a white sweatband holding up her short blonde curls. A white earbud cord bounced around her neck, dipping into a phone sleeve on her arm that was surely blasting music into her ears as she jogged.

“How would you kill her?”

“I would lure her into an alley with the impression that I would like to converse intimately and use the band around her forehead to gag her before knocking her feet out from beneath her, then turning her head until her neck was snapped.. You didn’t give me much to work with, darling,” he said the answer in only a few moments after your gesture, first having to figure out which person you’d meant,  _ finding the woman, _ then seeing any telling signs for possible weapons and finding little. “I would have preferred one of the fellows there walking the dogs.. The leash would make a good strangulation tool.”

“Morbid,” you nodded. “I would have just pointed to the shop there and had her walk into traffic.. Did you see that nasty look she had on her face when she looked at us..? She thinks she’s so much better than all of us.. Like we should be ashamed for daring to  _ walk on a public path.. _ Okay, Karen, you can jog like a health-nut. Good for you. Public property is for  _ public use. _ ”

“I didn’t see any unhappy expressions,” Alastor seemed legitimately surprised by your assessment, “I thought it had been a bit..  _ Uncomfortably appreciative, _ actually..”

“That’s because you’re a walking snac, Al,” you sighed, rolling your eyes and continuing to lead him down the path. “My turn. Make it hard.”

Alastor hummed an off-note before dragging his eyes to the people gathered.

“How about that gentleman with the ill-fitting shirt..?”

There was a rather fit-looking young man in a shirt that looked stretched and ripped to it’s bare threads, no sleeves to be seen and his nipples very well pronounced on his buff-

_ Fuck that’s Ethan- _

Your brain short circuited before you snapped your eyes to Alastor with suspicion. “Any particular reason, Roommate?”

Rather than looking playfully innocent as he would if he were legitimately trying to pull one over on you, as he often did, he looked confused.

“I’m missing something, I presume?”

“Oh- Wisteria-!”

You and Alastor were mere feet away from Ethan as he stepped away from the small handful of other rather buff men around him, the sweat on his skin shining in the sun only the faintest comparison to his beaming smile as he waved. “Nice to see you, again-!”

He took notice of Alastor the same instant that Alastor connected a few mental dots, the casual smile on his face becoming polite and detached.

“Hey Ethan,” you greeted, inwardly sighing at the questions Alastor was surely going to ask before walking closer to the border between the pale yellow pathway and the lush green grass where Ethan stood. “What’s up?”

“Not.. much,” he murmured, taking note of the tall, lean form of Alastor, seeing the way your arms were linked and the incredibly well-groomed appearance he put together in a white silk button-up with a burgundy bowtie, black slacks and a pair of red suspenders. His shoes even gave off an impossibly clean shine. “It’s been awhile..”

“Yeah, I finally finished off my degree,” you huffed, looking and  _ sounding _ relieved as you slumped a little in place, almost surprised as Alastor adjusted his grip to keep your weight against his side.  _ Odd, but considerate, so it’s fine.. _ “Free sailing from here on out..”

“Congratulations,” Ethan perked up, looking legitimately excited for you as he ruffled the hair on the back of his head, a good portion of it soaked to his scalp. He’d clearly been working out  _ hard _ with the group behind him.. “Ahm.. who’s your.. Friend?” he tried.

“This is my roommate, Allen,” you introduced the demon with a mild shrug. “Allen, this is Ethan.”

“Nice to meet you-”

“Pleasure to meet you!” Alastor’s constant exclamation-point sentences seemed to throw off even the Columbia Uni Alumni.  _ Damn. _ “I see by your choice of apparel that we’re keeping you from your afternoon. I’d be delighted to talk further at a later time-!”

“Uhh, sure,” Ethan muttered, scuffing the toe of his sneaker in the grass as he slid his eyes back to you, biting the corner of his lip before giving you a small wave of his hand. “Good seeing you, Wisteria..”

“You too, Ethan,” you nodded, feeling Alastor’s arm re-link through yours before he was continuing down the path with you. “The hell was that all about? You looked ready to take a bite out of him, Al..”

“Oh, no my dear, he had far too much muscle, it leaves the meat too stiff and tasting off.”

You were quiet for a few minutes, trying to work out if he was joking, remembering that he was a demon, then figured he wasn’t joking and shrugged.

It’s not like you could do anything about that  _ now _ . Repercussions or not.

_ He’s already dead. _

* * *

“Hey Al-?”

You heard a questioning hum from the living room, he’d gotten very interested in the novels you’d collected so you had migrated your collection from your study to the living room bookshelf that usually only held knick-knacks or mail.

“How opposed are you to looking after the house for a week or so on your own?”

There was a soft scratch, as if he’d had to double-take with his record sound again (you were getting  _ good _ at reading his expressions and moods after two months living together) before he poked his head into the hall, just seven or so feet from yours where it was poked into the hall from a different downstairs door.

“ _ Pardon, dear?” _

“I’m the maid of honor for a friend I’ve had since high school,” you informed him with a shrug, poking yourself back into the guest room and continuing to clean at the woodwork and tuck your phone back into your pocket. “They’re having a destination wedding in Vegas, so I’ll be flying out for the wedding on a Wednesday and won’t be back until the following Wednesday. Are you okay with being here alone?”

“ _ Whyever would you think otherwise?” _ he asked in a light, unassumingly offended voice.

You shot him an unimpressed look as he walked through the door with his arms poised behind his back and his body leaned forward so as not to brain himself on the low height of the door frame.

“You scared the shit out of the mailman the other day when he asked for you to sign for my package. I had to spend  _ ten minutes _ assuring him that you were just a freakishly tall cosplayer with a Theater Arts degree.. If I leave you here alone, I need to know that you won’t A) have my home raided by the fuzz, B)  burned to _ash_ , or C) _both._ ”

“There’s a simple solution to that, of course,” Alastor pointed out, smiling blithely as you rolled your eyes and returned to scrubbing at the windows.  _ Cleaning day. No room was left undusted. _

“Oh?” You murmured, “And what would that be?”

“Why, just bring me along with you, dear-!”

The rag made a _ squeak _ sound as you rubbed at it wrong, turning to give Alastor the most  _ incredulous _ face you could manage.

“ _ You _ would attend a  _ human wedding? _ ”

“It’s been a fair time since I’ve had the pleasure, true,” he nodded, running a hand down his jaw thoughtfully as he inspected the painting your aunt had hung on the wall. A field of flowers with a small family of three picnicking in the hills. An early picture of her family she had recreated with paint. “But I wouldn’t be opposed to it.. I can fairly say that I’m curious to know if much has changed in the way of the proceedings..”

“Can you even..” you flushed a bit as you felt suddenly  _ very _ offensive, cutting off the words so you could turn and turn the windex onto the antique glass ashtray on the bedside table.

“Go on,” Alastor’s voice was almost a  _ purr _ as he goaded you into continuing.

“I shouldn’t,” you sighed, finishing the scrubbing and setting the windex aside to reach for the wood polish again. The bottle slid away from your reaching hand, and you looked up with mild embarrassment to see Alastor standing just a few inches away from you, twirling his cane in hand and very pointedly meeting your eyes.

He tilted his head, staying quiet.

_ Ugh.. _

“Can you even  _ enter _ a church, Alastor?” you asked in a mildly pleading voice. He wasn’t going to let up without an answer, so a bit of embarrassment and possible death was better than that  _ knowing stare. _

His laughter was much better than the alternative of cutting your head off, but when have  _ you _ ever given that option a second’s thought? He’d either kill you or not. He was a demon, you didn’t presume to know him or his motivations.

“I’ll be fine, dear,” he assured you, reaching down a long arm to pat the top of your head before turning on his heel and settling into the chair in the corner of the room with the novel he’d put in his coat pocket. “So, when will the delightful ceremony occur?”

“ _ So extra.. _ ” you muttered under your breath before snatching up your wood polish and beginning to scrub at the headboard with a different rag on your cleaning-day belt, which was just a toolbelt outfitted with pockets for rags, Q-tips, bottle-trigger loops and a steel-wool sponge for the  _ emergencies _ . “It’s in a month. I already had everything prepped, I just forgot about what I’d do with the house while I was gone.. Lacy just texted me reminding me to make sure all of my reservations were sound and to triple check to be sure--

“Wait-  _ fuck, where are you even going to sleep?” _

The laugh track was  _ not _ appreciated at that moment.

* * *

Follow me on instagram @ pistoltdhopper where I post in-progress snips of my artwork for the story. :)


	11. What Happens in Vegas...

The bridesmaids' dresses were simple green things with silver sashes around the waist that had a delicate bow on the left-side hip with trailing ribbon that loosely fell to the hems at their knees. Said dress was fine-pressed and hanging in a garment bag, ready and waiting for the big day, right inside the hotel closet. You’d splurged for a larger room, but  _ far _ away from the honeymoon suite, on the complete opposite side of the hotel. This is where the bridal party would be meeting for girl’s night in place of the bachelorette’s stripper/alcohol session.

Not including yourself, there were three other girls in the bridal party, and Lacy, the bride-to-be. As maid-of-honor, it had been your job to help her find a dress so many months back, help her through the alterations, walk her through all of the planning and make sure she and her husband-to-be James didn’t crumble under the pressure of his very incredibly terrible mother and her incredibly terrible father.

You had compensated for this by hiring a bodyguard for the actual wedding and the small reception that would happen after the ceremony itself and promised Lacy that she wouldn’t see hide nor hair of the two fuck-wits intent on making their children’s lives miserable.

Thinking back to the  _ gift _ you’d be using to bring your  _ guest _ along, you glowered at the elegant red microphone on your hotel bed.

* * *

Alastor had decided to grant you a  _ token of good faith _ by giving you his microphone staff to take to Las Vegas.

“All you have to do to bring me there is wave it and  _ want me there _ ,” he assured you, practicing with you in the cabin two weeks back with his hands curled around your shoulders like those over-sized cuff-things knights of olde wore to battle. “It won’t work if you don’t have enough  _ drive. _ ”

You’d hummed, walked to the spot on the other side of the room you’d been guided to and closed your eyes, holding the staff tightly between your hands and thinking  _ hard _ about Alastor moving from point A to point B. He left to find some random portion of the house to wait in, and after a solid minute, you gave it a fluid, flag-baton wave in a musician’s arch.

The rip in space was instantaneous, and you stared dumbly at the glittering,  _ burning _ circle of golden energy ringed in orange through the area showing you a portion of your house not  _ directly _ in front of you.

_ He was in your- _

“Hey-! Get out of my office, Al-!”

_ You hadn’t seen the shock on his face at the immediate ease you’d taken to using the staff, too busy shuffling him out of the room and through the portal with waving arms and a book in hand. “Shoo-! Out-! It’s a Private Study for a reason-!” _

* * *

You were brought out of your reverie by a knock on the door, shaking yourself out of it and moving to get the knob after tucking the microphone into the closet.

The door opened to show Lacy, being held closely by Michelle and Denise, two of the three bridesmaids that would be preceding you down the aisle.

“Where’s Anna?” you asked immediately, darting your eyes down the hall for the one girl you were uncomfortable with in the group.

“She had to call her boyfriend,” Michelle rolled her eyes, just as fed up with the bitch as you were but not daring to show it to Lacy, or worse, Denise, who couldn’t keep a secret to save her goddamn life.

“Come in,” you held the door open, allowing the girls to hurry to the sofa you’d unfurled the bed from, piling it up with all of the pillows from the lush King-sized bed you’d asked for and adding your own pillows as well as the red-plaid one you’d gotten for Alastor and brought for kicks.

“So, you  _ finally _ got a date,” Michelle was, of course, the first to jump into girl-talk, Lacy looking sick to her stomach but smiling as she clutched her favorite blue-bunny ice-cream-themed blanket around her shoulders, pink-bunny slippers making soft ‘blip’ noises with every step . She sat down in the middle between the girls while you moved to gather the snacks together, Denise also holding a large box of snacks that she’d bought out on the town and settling everything with you onto the center front portion of the bed so everyone could more easily watch the TV. “How the fuck did  _ that _ happen?”

You had very few options to tell the truth, so you went with the easiest part of it to explain, “Well, we live together, so..”

“You  _ what-” _ Michelle barked the same moment that Lacy’s jaw  _ dropped _ and Denise spit up her cola onto her ratty hoodie. She peeled out of it as Michelle launched into her interrogation. “When the hell did  _ this _ happen-?!”

“Uhm..” You had to think a moment, remember when you moved in and bought that radio. “Late March, I think.. Maybe early April..?”

“And you’ve been  _ quiet _ about this,  _ why-?!” _ Michelle demanded, throwing a bar of chocolate at you, which you reflexively caught, and began peeling the wrapper away to eat. “You  _ bitch- _ start explaining-!” She made a chop-chop motion with her hands in a rapid, rigorous manner, and you began speaking to appease her so as not give Lacy more reason to look worried for her friend’s blood pressure.

“Well, we met around that time and hit it off, and he seemed cool and he needed some place to stay, so I thought-  _ well, this guy’s sane enough and self-isolation is incredibly boring, so why not? _ And we’ve been roommates ever since, so-”

“Wait- so you aren’t.. You know,  _ screwing _ ?” Denise interrupted, her nose scrunching up as she twisted the cookie top off of her Oreo. “That seems like a waste. You’re usually the last person to think something like this would be a good idea.”

“There’s an infinitesimal chance of it being anything within the realm of romantic, though,” you pointed out with a shrug, tossing a square of chocolate into your mouth and crunching loudly before continuing. “Plus I think he’s, like, asexual? Because he looks  _ really _ annoyed by sex scenes in movies.. So there’s no shot  _ there,  _ either Michelle. So don’t say love isn’t a factor..”

“You’re letting an asexual dude live with you in a remote cabin in the woods next to a lake and a mountain range,” Michelle spoke in slow,  _ are-you-hearing-yourself-you-fucking-moron _ voice that Chrys often got when she caught you doing something monumentally  _ stupid _ . “Are you not afraid of him  _ murdering you?” _

“Nah, he’s cool,” you shrug, your unconcerned face making her screech in her throat as she gripped a pillow and stuffed it over her own face to  _ scream _ .

“Are you happy with him, Wisp?” Lacy asked you gently, reaching out her hand for yours and holding it gently, waiting to speak again until you’d met her eyes. “Do you like being around him?”

“Yeah,” you nodded without hesitation. You really did like Alastor, he was fun without being irresponsible and funny without stretching it too far into aggravation.

“ _ What _ do you like about him?” she asked you curiously, rubbing her hands over yours. You looked up to the ceiling, eyebrows furrowing as you munched on your chocolate and thought about it as your soft-spoken friend gently pet your hand.

“Well,” you murmured, glancing between the girls, seeing Michelle looking ravenous for details and Denise watching you like a hawk. You wondered when Anna was going to show up. “He’s really funny.. He likes to play practical-”  _ and non practical- _ “-jokes on and around me.. But they’re fun and show me that he likes to make life interesting..” You shift a bit in your seat and the girls huddle a bit together as you pull a pillow into your lap, absently fluffing the edges until you realized you’d grabbed his and simply holding it in your lap. “He’s a great cook.. Everything he makes gives the house this  _ mouthwatering smell _ and I know I can always look forward to dinner.. Sometimes I’ll start dinner and he’ll come in to help out.. He’s very well-read, likes the classics and mystery novels.. And I’ve just got him hooked onto Tim Burton, so that’s good, too..”

“What else do you like about him?” Lacy had this starry-eyed look on her face, while Denise looked lost for words and Michelle was staring at you as if you’d only just met. You tried not to look too deep into it.

“He has the  _ worst _ puntastic humor,” you groaned a little for emphasis as you threw your head back, then rocked back forward to clutch at the pillow tighter. “He’s a great dancer- likes to Swing, and he’s a jazz fan.. Oh-! He has this whole thing about smiling-! He’s  _ always _ smiling-! And it’s not a fake smile, either-! He’s always just  _ genuinely delighted _ with the world around him. It’s insane-!”

The girls stared at you in silence for several long seconds, before Michelle and Denise shared a glance and burst out laughing. Lacy looked between the two with a motherly, unamused scowl and used the pillow she’d been clutching lovingly in her arms to smack at the two of them. “Oh hush-! The both of you-!”

“What?” you demanded, grimacing when the two only began laughing  _ harder _ at your confusion. “What the hell, guys?”

“Don’t listen to these  _ vultures _ ,” Lacy assured you, reaching out her hands to cup your cheeks, “I think he sounds like a swell guy, hon. I’m glad you brought him..”

“Speaking of, where  _ is _ he?” Denise asked after she'd coughed herself out of the potential heart-attack, Michelle was slowly getting there. “I’m  _ assuming _ you’re going to share a room?”

“He’ll be here tomorrow morning,” you assured them, tucking your legs beneath you and tossing your head to the television. “So, since I brought the movies and Denise brought the snacks.. Michelle? If you would turn on the television?”

The ebony-skinned accountant-in-training groaned, loud and long, before getting to her feet to set up the player sitting on the dresser beside the television, fixing cords and such before tossing you the remote.

“Thanks.”

“What are we watching first?” Lacy asked, cuddled up to your side as you all settled onto the bed, knowing Anna would be there soon as Denise muttered about texting her to  _ hurry her skinny white-girl ass up _ .

“The Princess Bride,” you answered immediately, pressing a kiss to the crown of her head. She may be two years older than you, but she was still stuck at her 5’2” and made everyone around her want to cuddle her into oblivion. “Your favorite.”

As the beginning ads began playing you heard a knock at the door and Denise’s mutter about Anna being there before getting up to let her in.

You didn’t see the sharp yellow-orange glow of eyes peering from the shadows of the closet, and you probably wouldn’t have cared much beyond its comfort if you had. You’d met Chester twice in the span of living with Al and he was basically a sweetheart, but he was also a blabbermouth, and you maybe would have thought twice about your words if you thought they might be relayed to him so quickly.

But you didn’t see him, so you didn’t know.

“Hey Anna,” you greeted the twig-thin, brunette, long-haired model for a cosmetics company you  _ never _ remembered the name of. “Long time no see.”

“Where's Lacy?” she demanded, brushing past you without a care and making you sigh in silent resignation.

“On the bed.”

“Good, I’ve got tea to spill. There was this fight between Clarence and Deena, so-”

You zoned out of her blathering to snatch up the plaid pillow, a few moments before she would have sat on it, surprisingly and unnaturally angry and forcing yourself to take slow, deep breaths and count your heartbeats to resist the urge to smack her.

Anna tested your patience on a good day, but this felt a little quick to the punch, usually she had to say something pretty annoying or build up for several minutes before you snapped.

It was odd, but you tried to focus on Lacy, who looked resigned by Anna’s blathering, but also supportive when the brunette began whining about the lack of attention her boyfriend was giving her on boy’s night.

Lacy had made it  _ especially clear _ that she wasn’t just going to go to a strip club or just going drinking for her Bachelorette’s party and if anyone tried she was calling the entire thing off. Denise and Anna had put up a stink, but for Michelle and Wisteria, who knew  _ exactly _ what her father was like, they swore it off with her in a heartbeat and promised a night full of movies and candy and a day after full of nothing but spa treatments and sight-seeing.

The girls fell asleep in a puppy pile, with Lacy, Wisteria and Michelle taking the large bed, while Denise and Anna slept on the pull-out, much to their annoyance, though they were too weary of sleeping with Wisteria to actually argue about it.

_ She could get violent if you didn’t wake her up right. _

* * *

The girls went to their own rooms the next morning and you used the microphone to summon Alastor after sprucing up the mess a bit, making sure his pillow was on the untouched chair in the corner and the sheets taken off and bundled neatly for housekeeping to take care of in your absence.

“Hey, Al,” you greeted with a wave, holding out the staff immediately as he stepped through and delighting in his surprised expression, mildly curious to note that he looked suspicious before giving him a soft chuckle. “I promise I didn’t summon any of your cute patchwork buddies. As adorable as they are, they would have given my friends a heart attack.”

He looked you over, head to foot, took a deep breath in and then twirled his microphone back out of existence, reaching out a hand to ruffle your hair. “And good morning to you, my dear-! I hope you slept well-!”

“I did,” you nodded, absently fixing your hair as he walked past you to look at the outfit you’d laid out on the bare mattress. You were going simple with a pair of jean shorts and a tank top with a small neck-scarf, but his smile looked..  _ Mildly irritated.. _

“Something wrong?” you asked.

“Not at all, my dear,” he murmured, walking around the  _ monster  _ of a bed to look around the well-furnished room. It even had a small kitchenette with a standing fridge and freezer combo. “Do you plan to make meals in here?”

“I planned to eat out mostly,” you shrugged, catching his glance and shrugging your shoulders again as you gathered up your outfit and moved to go into the bathroom. Calling back into the room before you shut the door, you reminded him. “Don’t forget to snap your luggage into the room after you make yourself human-looking, too-! Michelle likes to notice stuff like that-!”

“Noted, darling..”

You shuddered, checked yourself in the mirror for any sign of a fever, shrugged it off and moved to shut the door completely to get dressed, humming to yourself as a radio tune began playing in the other room.

* * *

“This is the life,” you murmured, neck-deep in mud and listening to the soothing soundtrack of violins as the girls were prepped around you for their seaweed wraps.

“Wisteria..” Lacy whisper-moaned, arching her back into the hands of her masseuse until it popped, leaving her to slump bonelessly back into the table. “You.. are the best maid of honor I could have asked for.. I can’t feel my anything..”

“That’s the idea, suga’,” Michelle huffed, reaching out to pinch the girl’s cheek before moving to hop up onto her table. “After this is mani-pedis and waxing.. Think you can handle that?”

“Gods, yes,  _ please _ ,” Lacy whisper-screamed. “I was so scared I was going to have to shave..”

“Oh, sweetie,  _ no _ ,” Anna, in a rare moment of softness, cooed to her. “You’re the princess this week.. Everything’s on our dime this time.”

“Payment for all the coffee you snuck into the lectures,” Denise held up her cocktail in a mock-toast.

“And the mental-breakdown cuddles,” you added promptly, “Without you in the school tag teaming with Chrys, I probably would have stabbed a lot of people..”

“As if I would let you get arrested,” Lacy grumbled.

* * *

The girls squealed as they looked upon the plain-faced man in a  _ very _ outdated chauffeur’s uniform holding a sign in front of a red limo that read  _ DeLucian Bridal Party _ in fancy lettering.

You blinked suddenly, having not arranged this and seeing the shock on the girl’s faces, feeling conflicted as you reached out to keep them from getting in. “Hey-  _ Hey-! NO-! _ ”

At your bark of warning they stopped cold and turned to you, seeing the anger on your face and Lacy turning immediately worried. “What’s wrong, Wisp?”

“I did  _ not _ schedule a limo,” you informed her promptly, reaching out a hand to push the lock of hair from her eye and turn to glare at the chauffeur. “This could be a kidnapping attempt. Wait here, I’ll check it out.”

“Way to be a buzzkill, Jordan,” Anna muttered, Denise looking equally put out until Michelle had swat the girl’s on the asses with a hissed “Shut the fuck up- you wanna be the next victims in sex trafficking?!”

You were already walking to the chauffeur, pushing the sign out of his hands to look him in the eye. He looked..  _ Dead inside.. _

“Who sent you,” you grumbled, a warning look on your face that gave no room for anyone to assume you were thinking anything  _ but _ your exact thoughts.

“Master McCarthy,” he informed you calmly, robotically.

There was the faintest..  _ Static _ .. To his voice..

_ McCarthy.. McCarthy- _

_ Wait.. _

“Where is he?” you demanded, calming a tad, but still not fully on board.

He opened the back door, revealing a man in his early thirties at the latest, brown hair curled at the side in a pleasant swoop and his clothes consisting of business casual in slate grays and stark white with a blood-red bowtie and a smile.

“Darling-!” he beamed, stepping out of the limo and sweeping you into a twirl on the sidewalk. You could hear the girls behind you giving strangled gasps, and you looked up in a mild daze as he cupped your face in his hands, still grinning with his  _ white, blunt teeth. It threw you off.  _ “You’re practically  _ glowing _ , my dear-! Did you have a good day at the spa?”

“Peachy,” you murmured, face still cupped in his hands until you’d taken a step back and turned to wave your friends forward. It couldn’t hurt, right?

_ You’d keep a close eye on it, anyway. _

Anna and Denise were  _ glaring _ at you, and Lacy was bouncing up and down as she rushed to hold out her hand, beaming  _ up, up, up _ at the man who was around 6’ 4”, shaking it with all the enthusiasm she could muster to match and succeed his. “Hiya-! My name’s Lacy-! You must be Al, right? Wisp’s told us  _ so _ much about you already-!”

“Right you are, sweetheart,” he nodded, shaking her hand back firmly and giving her a wink for good measure. “All good, I hope. And if you’re Lacy, you have my most sincere congratulations, dear-!”

“He’s such a  _ charmer _ , Wisp-!” Lacy whisper-yelled over her shoulder, aggressively waving her arm for the rest of them to hurry up and surround the  _ tall _ man that lived with their friend.

“Mhmm,” you murmured, smiling faintly at the picture they made. She barely came to his  _ stomach, oh god.. You at least had your head to his chest in this form, if he were in his true form she would barely make his damn sternum. _

“I’ve arranged for you ladies to have a proper ride to your next appointment,” he assured them with a grin, his arm settling around your shoulder as he turned on his heel to address all of the girls, head tilted just  _ slightly _ to the side.  _ Try-hard. _ “When Wisteria here informed me of your plan to..  _ Uber.. _ ” he could not contain the disgust in his voice from faintly slipping out, but he managed to stave off the irritation with a cough, and a chuckle, “Well, I decided to provide a safer alternative-! You can’t be too careful in such bustling cities, you know-!”

“That’s sweet a’ you, hon,” Lacy grinned, still bouncing in place and looking ready to hug him-  _ no _ -

He seemed to notice her move as well, because he shifted you into a spin again in front of him the second Lacy threw her arms out and  _ leapt. _

_ Your back crashed into his front and you had your arms full of Lacy as she squealed and hugged you tight. She pulled back after feeling your breasts until you’d bent your head with a quick mutter about talking later and guided her shoulders toward the car. You didn’t feel anything odd with his hands on your shoulders or the stiff way they had been slid off, too focused on your friend to see the way his face had frozen in his ever-present smile and his eyes locked on his chest where a single blue thread was caught on his shirt button. _

_ But his face had relaxed by the time you glanced back, so you hadn’t been able to make a note of it. _

* * *

You guided everyone in and made sure a good portion of the back bench was empty so Al could slide in, hands folded politely on his knees and his face his usual smile of passive amusement.

“So,  _ Al, _ ” Anna was, unsurprisingly, the first to lean forward with her elbows on her knees, not-so-subtly flashing her tits to the man sitting politely at the side of his soon-to-be-wedding-date. “Tell us about  _ you _ .”

“He’s a Theater Arts Major,” you answered for him, reaching out a hand to give him a glass of the champagne Michelle had jumped to pop for Lacy and hand out in cute little flutes. “Mostly for things like 1920’s reenactments and such..”

“What else do you do?” Anna pushed.

“Leave the man be,  _ Carlotta _ ,” Michelle sniffed, thrusting the nearly overflowing glass into the model’s palm and making her sit straight so as not to spill it. “If he’s got Wisp’s approval, I’m cool with it.”

“I’m just curious..” Anna pouted, sipping her drink as Lacy took a few sips, scrunched up her nose and then poured it into Michelle’s empty glass to be finished.

“Not a fan of the giggle water, dear?” Alastor asked with a faint chuckle.

You elbowed him reflexively, shooting him a warning look when he looked surprised.

“ _ Al, no.” _

“No, it’s fine,” Lacy assured you gently, shifting her bag further up her lap and looking Al straight in the eye as she spoke, keeping her voice level and cool and giving away nothing of the unease she felt on the topic. “My father turned my tongue from it, unfortunately. I don’t mind a bit of wine now and again, but the smell of alcohol on the whole doesn’t really appeal..”

“I have low proof cider if you’d prefer it, dear,” he assured her, reaching into the cooler closest to himself and withdrawing a bottle you were 80% sure he hadn’t actually packed beforehand.

“Oh, that actually looks good,” Lacy murmured, taking the bottle with a heartfelt “Thank you, Al.”

“My pleasure, dear.”

* * *

“Lassshh Vegaassh issshhh  _ gorgeoussshh, _ ” Lacy murmured, leaning her head on your shoulder as she dozed. Anna and Denise had already passed out two stops ago, drunk off their asses, and while Michelle held her liquor better than all but you, she was also drowsy and swaying with the motions of the car, looking cross between giggling or concentrating on not throwing up. “M’  _ shoooo _ glad that Jameshh convinshed me..”

“Okay, honey bunny,” you murmured, peeling the nearly empty cider-bottle from her hand and bundling her into her thin wool coat. “Time for bed.. We’re back at the hotel..”

“Don’  _ wannaaaaa, _ ” she whined, stuffing her face in the crook of your neck as you expertly maneuvered her out of the car. Alastor had taken one look at the clingy women two stops in and hurriedly made an excuse about a prior appointment which they were too drunk to ask about before he disappeared out the door.

One by one, you brought the girls inside, herding them onto the elevator before taking them to their rooms.

By then Michelle had sobered enough to help you get the girls inside, Denise and Anna collapsing in their shared room as James met them at the door to his and Lacy’s regular room, a bit of glitter in his hair and a good portion of face paint still on his face making him look like a melted tiger. He looked upon his fiance with nothing but tired, drunken love, murmuring soft nothings to her as he brought her into the room, giving you girls a thankful look before you left to drop Michelle off and go to your own room for a soak in the jacuzzi tub.

An hour after your soak, you slipped into your soft blue pajamas and walked out, toweling your hair to see Alastor perched in the corner recliner, feet propped up on the footrest and his pillow poking out the sides of his thin, willowy frame. He was reading something, of course, so you gave him a mild glance before drawing back your covers, reaching for your headphones and tucking down into the soft, cool sheets that smelled freshly cleaned.

“Did you have fun today, darling?” he asked absently, turning the page with his eyes trained sternly on the page.

“Mhmm.. Thank you for the limo, Alastor..”

“Parlor tricks, my dear..” He turned a page, “Will I be needed tomorrow for anything?”

“Rehearsal dinner.. Site seeing.. The wedding is Saturday, so we’ll be out all morning getting ready..”

He hummed, not saying much else as they fell into a calm silence. Eventually, the day caught up with you and you dozed off, sleeping peacefully within your mammoth-sized bed with your noise-cancelling headphones blocking everything but your own blood flow and heartbeat.

_ You dreamed of warm hands and soft blankets, a forest with dim red light and a never-ending path that lead to a racing buck. _

* * *

Just a reminder that I'm always up for a comment/criticism/question down in that pretty little box just below here-!

Hit me up and follow me on Instagram to see my in-progress and finished artwork pieces for the story-!

@pistoltdhopper

Have a good one-!

Pistol out.


	12. Another Sneak Peek (FIXED)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another look into the next chapter..  
> I think I just like teasing the hell out of you guys..

"Come, my dear, let's show these plebeians how a _real_ pair swing."

"You got it, Allie."

FIXED

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Check my Instagram for more sneak peeks and a look into the process of my fanart for the story-!  
> @pitoltdhopper


	13. Here Comes the Bride

“What the fuck is she doing here-” Michelle’s hissing was the only warning you received before shouting broke through the rehearsal dinner. You shot your eyes to your left to make sure Lacy was okay.

She was paling, staring at the door to the far end and left of them in the reception hall.

Your core  _ burned _ .

You’d shot to your feet within the span of a second and a half, your chair slamming back into the wall behind you as you bolted around the table for the door.

_ “-didn’t give him permission to marry that-” _

Your eyes fell upon a woman with a bob-cut of bleached blonde hair and at least three sessions of Botox in her face alone. Talon-like hands with blood-red nails and her clothes more suited to a retirement home bingo championship.

_ In other words, James’ mother had stormed the fucking wedding rehearsal. _

_ You were going to murder whoever the fuck told her. You didn’t even care at this point. _

“Leave the premises before I gut you like a fucking boar, you inconsiderate, over-entitled  _ waste of human excrement _ .”

She cut herself off to gape at you, your lips pulled back over your teeth and your body bowed forward, fists clenched at your sides as you heard several dozen people bolting after you- not fast enough to keep up, only-

“Darling,” a warm chuckle settled over your tense shoulders, but you didn’t relent, watching with fury rising  _ high _ as the woman lifted her eyes  _ up, up, up _ to see Alastor’s face. “You shouldn’t let such  _ teasing _ words come out of your mouth in such a public place..”

The flash of pink on her heavily-made-up cheeks made you want to  _ rip her throat out- _

“Wisp-! Wisp _don’t_ -!”

Lacy was screaming, tears falling down her blotchy-red face as she tried to walk around the table in her three-inch heels, James keeping a steady hold of her with anger on his face as he  _ glared _ at the woman at the door.

“Mom, what the  _ hell- _ ”

“Somebody call the-”

“Security’s on-”

You stepped sharply in front of the woman when she moved to go forward, having to shake her head to bring herself back to the present and flaring her nostrils when she settled her eyes on you again, a gleam of something wicked and primal in her gaze that had your hackles rising and your body preparing to  _ swing, break, snap-  _

“ _Easy, Darling_ ,” the hands on your shoulders pressed and kneaded, Alastor’s body angled to keep the woman out of the narrow doorway, not able to get through unless she planned to bowl over you both. “No need to have you arrested tonight..”

You couldn’t even manage  _ words _ , the fury choking your throat until something closer resembling a growl left your lips, hazel eyes alight with  _ fury _ as you glared the woman into backing up a startled step.

Alastor’s grip tightened on your shoulders briefly before digging in again, kneading at the tense muscles as a crowd of people now blocked the bitch from the door, a good dozen people making a wall of bodies as two stayed behind, one calling building security and another calling the actual cops.

“You absolute  _ tramp, how dare you keep me from my son-” _

_ “Al, I’m gonna kill her-” _

Alastor’s arms wound around your torso as you lunged, a laugh spilling out of his lips as the woman lunged forward as well, only to be restrained by two different burly security guards in neon yellow vests.

“Ma’am-  _ Ma’am, you need to calm down-” _

_ “DON’T YOU DARE TOUCH ME-! I DEMAND TO SEE MY SON-! HE’S MAKING THE BIGGEST MISTAKE OF HIS LIFE, HE’S GOING TO MARRY A-” _

You slammed the door shut with a stretched-out kick of your foot, leaning into Alastor’s arms and trying desperately to breathe through your nose, your chest heaving with adrenaline and your eyes  _ blazing _ .

Funny thing is..

_ You knew who did it.. _

You pat Alastor’s arm, pulling out of his hold and marching over to the girls gathered around Lacy, who was sobbing into James’ arms, his hand cradling her head to his chest as he whispered words of reassurance into her hair.

The sight was both heart-melting and  _ ice-building  _ as you stomped over to the group. Lacy pulled back to see what was going on, but you had caught Anna’s self-satisfied expression and lack of surprise when the woman came barging in.

She saw you coming.

“Wisteria- what do you think you’re-  _ Don’t you fucking touch me-” _

Her hand lashed out for your hair in the same instant that she drew her other one back in a poor-attempt at making a fist, her entire body poised to take a swing at your jaw.

_ Your leg lashed out as you spun mid-step, your whole body turning into the swing and sending her slamming into a table four feet back. _

“WISTERIA-” it was  _ multiple _ people calling your name in panic, but you felt like a bull locked onto a fucking red-as-blood curtain.

“How  _ dare _ you,” you hissed, marching forward to the woman as Alastor smothered his cackling under his hands, too amused to even consider stepping in this time.

You took a hold of her hair and dragged her head up as she screeched, fake nails freshly manicured digging into the sleeves of your hoodie, probably leaving marks even through the rather thick material. Snatching the phone sticking out of her pocket, you let go of her hair, watching her crumple to the ground in a pathetic heap as you walked back over to Lacy.

You typed in her boyfriend’s birthday, finding that was wrong, then put in the name of her Chihuahua.

It unlocked.

It took less than a minute for you to find the messages. She’d been smart and deleted them in the messaging app, but had taken precautions to save screenshots in her private folders, which opened to her boyfriend's name that time. You proactively sent copies to your own phone for evidence’s sake, then pulled it to the first photo and walked over to the couple.

You held the phone out to James and Lacy, your face stony and grave as Anna screaming incoherently behind you, demanding her phone and screeching about how she was going to press charges against your ass.

_ Hah.. _

_ Let her try.. _

Lacy took the phone with shaking hands and she and James only looked at them for a few moments before Lacy had taken a deep, heavy breath, the room falling silent as she squared her shoulders and walked over to Anna. The brunette had gone completely silent, clutching her stomach with one arm as she stared wide-eyed at Lacy, who stood above her like some long-beloved Grecian Goddess of Fury and Disappointment.

Lacy held the phone out to her, her brows furrowed and her face crumbled.

“ _ Leave _ .”

“Lacy- Lacy, I swear I didn’t mean-”

“Leave,” Lacy cut her off, sharp and unforgiving. It was one of the most severe moments you’d ever seen her in. James stood at her flank, and you gave her the space to have her moment. Out of the corner of your eye, you could see Alastor staring at her with mild shock.

_ He thought  _ Lacy _ would have a wrathful bone in her body? _

“Lacy, I  _ swear _ , I didn’t think she would-”

“You have five minutes to get off of the property before I have the security called again,” Lacy informed her in a tight, unyielding tone. “If you come to my wedding, you will be escorted out by police officers. If you try to crash the reception, I’m pressing charges.  _ Leave. _ ”

You slowly walked to Alastor, folding your arms around your stomach and ducking your head as you took slow,  _ deep _ breaths.

_ In.. Out.. _

_ In.. Out.. _

A hand settled into your hair, and you could have  _ keened _ at the gentle, welcoming touch, tilting your head into whoever was touching you and holding absolutely still as the hand froze, hesitant, then began carding through your mussed blue waterfall of hair.

Lacy spoke quietly to the rehearsal guests after Lacy scrambled to get up, snatch up her purse and book it to call a cab, the bride-to-be apologizing profusely until they’d all hurried to assure her that she wasn’t at fault.

“Wisp..”

You opened your eyes slowly, turning beneath the hand that continued to comb through your hair until your eyes fell upon Michelle. She was holding your purse, stretching it out as far as her arm allowed her.

_ You both knew you needed to go.. _

“Here.. we can handle it from here, suga’,” she assured you, letting the handle loop around your wrist before letting go completely so you could bring it to your chest. “Should I call you a cab?”

“I’ll take care of her,” Alastor assured the young woman with a mild grin, “We share a room after all..”

“Right,” Michelle murmured, biting her lip for a moment before nodding sharply and leaning down until you were forced to meet her eyes.

“You’ll text me when you get to your room,” she more stated than demanded. “And you’ll eat something on the way.. God knows we didn’t get a bite of the dinner before she came soaring in here like a fuckin’ banshee.”

You nodded sharply, digging your fingers into your arms and reminding yourself  _ there are consequences to every action, following Anna out to rip her hair out will wind you up in jail.. You may not be concerned about it  _ now, _ but Gramps won’t be happy about bailing you out and Nana will look at you with disappointment for  _ months _.. _

The last few reminders were enough for you to regulate your breathing, though the urges stayed, you listened intently to Alastor’s static-laced voice as he pulled you into an alley out of the way of cameras and summoned the previous limo, now shortened, with a snap of his fingers.

A large jacket was draped over your shoulders, and you looked back and up to see Alastor smiling down at you with a strangely fond expression, sans his pinstripe red jacket. “Come, my dear.. Let’s find a suitable place to relax.”

You nodded slowly, lowering your head and breathing slowly, in and out, as Alastor led you out of the alley, across the sidewalk, and opened the back door of the “cab” with red detailing on the bumper and taillights that closely resembled his radio dial eyes with a microphone shaped figure on the front of the car hood.

You settled into the back with a good foot of space between you two, Alastor crossing one knee over the other and leaning his elbow on the divider to his other side so he could lean back and angle himself towards you as you slipped off your sneakers, drew your legs up to an Indian position and dug your Switch out of your purse.

You set up the first game that showed up, Breath of the Wild, taking slow, deep breaths as you worked through the motions of calming down.

Alastor said nothing, watching in silence and listening to the gentle music occasionally overshadowed by fighting music and sounds.

* * *

You had given Alastor fifty dollars to run in for some take-away at a Chinese place, the demon telling his mindless servant something you didn’t hear in your daze about where you would eat.

Fifteen minutes later and the car came to a stop. Thinking you were back at the hotel, you paused the game, put it in your purse and moved to get out, only stopping when Alastor’s hand squeezed your shoulder, holding you back until he could slip out his own side and walk around the back of the car to open your door with his usual, charming grin.

Golden teeth that resembled a shark’s, pale skin a color crossed between peach and grey, red,  _ red eyes. _

Your first thought had been- _someone is going to see this-_ followed closely by- _well, it’s Las Vegas, so is anyone going to_ care? And _people walk around in ridiculous costumes, I highly doubt we’ll get stopped for more than a picture-_ before you were being escorted out of the car and led to the side of the road, which you now noticed was more of an abandoned ledge with a semi-flat place and a rough cement bench with a large tree on one side giving it a modest attempt at shade for day-time visits.

A wave of his microphone and the bench was melted and twisted, turning into an elegantly carved table with a pair of white-wicker chairs settled on either side, blood red cushions shining invitingly in the light of the slowly rising moon.

_ It was alarmingly familiar to the first dinner you’d shared, however.. _

_ The roses were blue. _

Your hand was pulled, and you walked slowly and carefully over the packed earth until he’d pulled out the chair for you.

“Your seat, Mi’Lady.”

His voice had gone back to that raspy radio-static you found so charming, and you swallowed thickly before sitting down, feeling the aggravation and stress melt off of you.

He settled onto the seat across from you after flicking the tattered end of his blood-red jacket back, twirling his staff out to bring Chester, his shadow, into the realm of the living and silently gesturing for him to set the table.

The folded container of chicken-fried rice made your mouth water and you accepted the chopsticks Alastor held out with careful fingers, the brush of his gloved hand against your knuckles sending a familiar flush through your body as you ducked your head and pulled them apart with a soft snap.

“That kick you gave her..” Alastor's voice was lower than usual in the night air, his chopsticks broken apart as the box opened itself to show his Kung Pao Shrimp. “It was very well executed.. I didn’t know you had experience in fighting..”

“Capoeira,” you murmured, rubbing at the back of your neck and sliding your eyes to the incredible overlook of the Las Vegas lights. “And a bit of ballet..”

“It looked remarkably controlled,” you heard him chuckle, “With the fire in your eyes and the aggravation in your expression, why, I thought you’d try to  _ kill her. _ ”

“I wanted to,” you sighed, heavy and tired and ready to pick apart your food to eat it. “So much for self-isolation.. I broke my violence-free streak..”

“I’m not scolding you dear, far from it,” he assured you, still chuckling as he took a bite, chewed with appreciation then continued after swallowing. “I simply.. Didn’t expect it.”

“Anna’s always been terrible,” you murmured, taking a few bites before you internally groaned and reached up a hand to pinch the bridge of your nose. “The Wedding is tomorrow.. And Anna most likely took herself, her boyfriend and her brother back to Michigan.. Oh great..”

“Were they integral to the Wedding party?” he asked.

“Not really,” you sighed, “But now Michelle is going to have to walk down the aisle alone.. Anna’s brother and boyfriend were both part of the groom's party..”

“Unfortunate,” he murmured, paused, then  _ grinned _ . “My dear, I may have an idea that will solve that little problem..”

“..Oh?”

He nodded brightly, and you felt something  _ twist _ in your chest as you watched him closely, his grin wide and excited and  _ happy. _ “Of course-! You have a perfectly capable groomsman in front of you-! I don’t mind evening out the party-!”

You briefly thought, a flicker of a thought really, about how he’d look standing at the foot of an altar with some faceless figure in front of him wearing white..

The internal, simultaneous  _ awww  _ and  _ oh fuck _ made your face turn expressionless out of three years instinct borne in Theater Arts classes.

“I’ll text James and Lacy and see what they think,” you assure him, already halfway down to pull the phone from your purse and send the quick text. The almost immediate, rambling reply of thank-yous and worried inquiries about your mental state made the last of the irritation fade off like smoke. You informed Mich you were eating and would be back at the room soon enough.

“Lacy said she and James think it’s a good idea,” you informed him after a minute of back-and-forth, “She would have told you directly, but she doesn’t have your number..”

Which was a little weird, because she’s never been this open and cool with random strangers unless they were-

_ Dating one of her friends- wait- _

Your face froze blank again, and the scene you’d briefly thought of now included a dash of dark blue.

_ Nonononononononono- _

No.

In the moment.  _ Focus _ .

“That’s wonderful, darling-!” Alastor’s excitement echoed over your blank expression and tense fingers. Perhaps you were still working through your aggression?

_ It was adorable, really, you had all of these wicked, snarling instincts hidden within you to stab and cut and maim and you  _ actively ignored them _ for the sake of yourself and others.. _

He was a little disappointed, if he were honest about it, that he wouldn't be seeing you again after you died.

_ Ah well, _ he thought in semi-melancholic amusement as you ate delicately from your oddly-folded container that outwardly matched his.  _ He’d simply enjoy the entertainment as it lasted.. _

He didn’t think it odd that he had  _ helped _ you restrain yourself.. Nor did he give the thought of joining you for the wedding party a second glance, either..  _ He did as he pleased, after all, why think twice about what he did or wanted? _

* * *

_ You were crying.. _

_ What a good waste of perfect eyeliner.. _

You sniffled pathetically, clutching the bouquet of roses dyed in all of the colors of the rainbow. Lacy walked slowly down the aisle on the arm of her adoptive mother, an older woman in her fifties who wore a deep plum colored dress that suited her only marginally taller willow frame.

Lacy herself wore her fairy-tale gown with all of the grace of a Fairy Queen of olde.. The corset was laced visibly with pale yellow ribbon, the soft skirt flowering out from her hips and drifting back with the slightest silk train. Her sleeves hugged her arms in two close-poofed portions to her elbows before billowing out in wide tulle-and-silk belle sleeves. Her long hair was curled to perfection, the halo of the white rose crown outfitted with a long lace veil that hid her face and chest from view and fluttered behind her with each step.

James was beaming at his love from the altar, his suit white with golden accent at the hems and a good portion of ruffles around his throat and spilling from his sleeves. His groomsmen were in black tailcoat suits with white shirts beneath emerald green vests. Their ties were all the same emerald as the vest, each with a golden pin keeping it neat-looking.

It looked like a woodland fairy-tale wedding with the church done up with branches and leaf and flower curtains, white tulle and fishnet twisted with colorful petals and billowing in corners and poles and so much  _ peace _ in the air wherever you looked.

You sniffled in silence, biting your bottom lip and watching Lacy’s mother give her away, crying softly to herself with the biggest smile until Lacy herself stepped up to the altar, James taking her hands in his and looking down at her. The love they felt for one another could be tasted in the air.

Michelle was trembling behind you as they said their vows, and when the veil was flipped over and they shared a kiss, the entire room burst into applause, more than a good dozen people openly bawling. You managed to wipe away your tears, nodding to the photographer who’d been doing so well and the cousin they had paid into filming the entire ordeal professionally.

James lifted and spun his  _ wife _ in the air, laughing as he tossed her up and caught her before spinning her again to hold her close and share another kiss.

The wedding party was over, and you started slightly as your elbow was looped through Michelle’s, dragged quickly over to the groom’s party and nearly  _ thrown _ at Al as Michelle looped her arm into Anthony's, the best man who’d walked you down at the beginning.

“Dibs on Tony-!” she called, giving you a flirty, saucy wink before dragging him toward the exit with the rest of the small gathering. Only about a hundred people attended, and that was all they’d wanted. “You can take your snack, Wisp, he’s too tall for me.”

Alastor, still in his human-sona and standing stiffly with a bundle of  _ you _ in his arms flashed her a mock-offended look, despite his grin. “My apologies dear, It would appear that we are.. Vertically challenged.”

You burst out laughing, ducking your face down and leaning into his arms as they tightened around your trembling figure. Both Michelle and Tony had groaned instinctively, looking mildly disgusted and amused as Al began guiding you out to the party bus that would take the bridal party and the groomsmen as well as the married couple to the reception hall, a particular casino party hall you had cased and approved about a year and a half ago and double-checked for issues the day before. It was where James' mother had crashed the rehearsal dinner, but you’d since called and tightened security so the issue would not be repeated.

Lacy and James were almost  _ sickeningly adorable _ throughout the entire reception, saying thank-you to all of the guests and  _ so much hugging _ .

“I love you, Wisp,” Lacy murmured, her chin on your shoulder as she held you tight. Your hand pat the back of her head gently, mindful of the rose crown. “Love ya’, Lace. I’m just glad I could help make your special day perfect.”

“It is,” she assured you, squeezing your hands tightly and giving her husband a small wave before pulling you further into the corner as he was swarmed by his family. “I have a few questions, actually.. And since the night’s winding down, I kind of want to know before everyone gets sloshed.”

“What’s up, buttercup,” you smiled, giving a small wave to Al when he’d turned to see you walk away, watching you huddle away secretly with curious eyes and an ever-present grin.

He turned away after you’d waved, laughing at something one of Lacy’s cousins said and holding a flute of something bubbly.

“Do you.. With Al, are things serious?”

If you had been drinking anything, you would have spit it out.

“What?” you muttered, angling her so that her entire back was to the party and he couldn’t possibly read her lips.

“I’ve never seen you this..  _ Involved _ with anyone before,” Lacy explained, reaching out to hold your hands and squeezing them again sweetly. “You have a problem getting close to people with your Weithe stuff, so.. It’s great that you’re comfortable around someone.. Hell, you’re letting the man  _ live with you-! _ I’m just.. I’m not  _ worried _ , per say, I’m just..”

“Concerned,” you murmured, nodding with a faint sigh. “I get it. I just.. I don’t  _ worry _ about impulsively killing him. He’s fully capable of taking care of himself and we’re pretty comfortable in our actions around each other.. We respect each other's limits and if we have problems, we talk them out..”

“Have you.. Well, have you  _ told _ him how much you like him?” Lacy asked quietly.

“Hell no,” you chuckled, spluttering a little at the absurdity. “Oh, hon.. He’s not.. He  _ wouldn’t..” _

“You can’t know that,” Lacy nudged you with her elbow, grinning impishly as you tried to think of  _ any _ reasonable excuse you could tell her instead of the staggering truth that he was from  _ Hell _ without making her pass out.

“I’ll.. think about telling him,” you murmured, leaning forward so you could press a kiss to her forehead. “I’m so proud of you, lovely.. Even on your special day you’re worrying about others.. Make sure you have an extra piece of cake, yeah?”

She gave a grumble, and you hugged her, tighter than before, burying your face into her curls. “Think about yourself and your husband for a while, dove. We’re all adults, so enjoy yourself without a care.”

“You’re the best, Wisp.”

* * *

You sighed softly as Lacy and James danced alone to the music, the croon of Train’s  _ Marry Me _ filling the space and making a few more people burst into silent tears.

When the song ended, everyone applauded and grabbed their partners, sliding onto the floor and beginning to dance to the music now pouring through the speakers. Denise was working the disk table next to Jacob, the man who’d been her opposite on the groomsmen line.

“They seem to be having fun,” you sighed, happy and full and watching intently as Lacy swung her hips and wiggled her shoulders with her cousins.

“Wouldn’t you like to dance with them?” Alastor asked.

“Not really,” you shrugged, your lips pursing as you looked at the minimal space between each body. “I’m more of a..  _ Scripted style..? _ I prefer having a rhythm and a single partner.. More elegant that way, I guess..”

“Why didn’t you say so, my dear-”

“No-!”

You managed to keep him from dragging you onto the floor by winding your arms around his midsection to stop him cold. “No Al-! Too many people-! I need my space..”

At that, you let him go, took two steps back, and held up your arms in mild surrender, “I’m sorry for grabbing,” he slowly turned his head and body toward you, his usual smile seeming strained at the corners as he looked down at his shirt and tie, “I know you don’t like it, but I also know you’re quicker than me and would have stopped for nothing else.. We cool?”

“We’re.. Fine, dear,” he murmured, fixing his coat and giving the disk table a mild glare. “Do you suppose they’ll play any  _ actual _ music at this rub?”

_ Oh, fuck.. _ Your mind blanked at the  _ aww _ you wanted to give.

_ 1920’s slang should not be this cute.. _

“Maybe later,” you murmured, reaching up to push a spiral-pressed curl out of your face to tuck it behind your ear, “Let’s just sit for a while.. These heels are on their way to ripping up my ankles..”

Alastor followed you to a table, and you fell into a quiet, but easy conversation about how he was liking Las Vegas and if he wanted to visit anywhere else in the future.

“Paris, perhaps,” he shrugged, seeing your mild surprise and flashing you a more..  _ Debonair _ grin. “I  _ am _ fluent in French.”

There was a shudder of something in you, and you took a slow, deep breath before letting it out through your nostrils.

“You are going to have  _ so _ many conversations with my sister that I will not be privy to..”

Several songs later, something familiar-ish made you perk up and look to the dance floor, your hazy-recollection of the playlist you’d had to talk through with Denise a month or so back bringing you to..

“Hey, Al,” you got to your feet and held out your hand, a grin working its way across your lips as you looked into his maroon-colored eyes. “Let’s dance.”

He glanced at the floor, seeing most of the party had either grouped together to talk, leaving only two or three couples dancing to something Country and with a lot of guitar.

He got to his feet, raised his eyebrow at your sudden enthusiasm but held out his elbow anyway.

No sooner had your heeled toes hit the floor did the Country song fade out and the familiar beat pour in.

Alastor looked down at you, and his smile seemed to  _ soften _ just the slightest as he held out his palm. “May I have this dance, my dear?”

“You may,” you did a curtsy with your skirt before you took it, and you spun out onto the floor with a giggle.

_ “Hey Hobo-man, hey dapper-dan, you both have your styles, but brother you’re never fully-dressed without a smile~!” _

There were about a half dozen songs by Paul Whiteman after this one, James being a dear fan, and you knew Louisiana was next, so when you curtsied at the end of the dance you didn’t let Alastor linger after, pulling him into another swing as soon as the next one started and delighting in his startled laugh.

You swung and twisted and twirled through a good fifteen minutes, pausing only to breathe and laugh and grin as he practically danced you around the entire floor. Lacy and Michelle had outright laughed at you, several couples stepping back when they noticed the two of you were seriously getting into it and giving you plenty of room to dance.

When the beat slowed down to the last of the six, you had to admit defeat, knowing that Alastor likely would want nothing to do with it.

_ Love Me..? No, he’d definitely not want anything to do with it. _

No sooner had you curtsied and began to turn for the table, you heard a jump of static behind you. Not from the speakers, but from..

_ Alastor.. _

“My dear..” he murmured, the blanket, familiar melody of Paul Whiteman's song fluttering around the couples adapting to the slower music, pulling in close and merely shuffle-stepping around. Lacy was swept up in her husband's arms, cheek pressed to his chest as he swayed back and forth with her to the melody. “Would you grant me.. One last dance tonight?”

“Just one,” you murmured, laughing faintly as you eyed the slowly dancing couples.

_ He probably didn’t notice, but- _

“Al, I don’t think you’ll want me to dance this one with you..”

“There’s no one else I’d rather dance it with,” he smiled,  _ he always smiled, _ meeting your eyes head-on and assuring you didn’t look away. It was nearing the time for the lyrics..

_ Maybe.. You could be.. A little selfish..? _

You reached out to his extended hand, fingers trembling slightly as you tried to work through the  _ sheer nerve _ of what you were about to do.

You weren’t  _ scared- you can’t be scared- _

_ This is probably the closest, however, you will ever come to sheer terror.. _

He pulled you close, and your body tucked up against his almost perfectly, your head the perfect height for him to,  _ in his human form, _ rest his chin on top of your head since you were wearing five-inch heels.  _ Not like he would, but the observation was there. _

You cleared your throat softly as you took a step back, fixing your arms so he could hold one of your hands while the other settled on the small of your back. You gripped his upper arm lightly, not wanting to set off his touch aversion. You could have sworn his expression had looked playfully knowing.

_ Gods, this is awkward.. _ You worked smoothly through the steps, taking in the careful cues of how he led and working through the gentle turns with slow, measured breaths.

_ “Smile darling,” _ he murmured, jolting you a bit in surprise at the sudden press of lips to the top of your hair, “It’s no good to be under-dressed in such a public space..”

“Right,” you murmured, working up several thoughts of baby otters and aardwolf puppies.

The song ended so soon you were torn, almost cursing the fact that you could still feel the heat of his hand on the small of your back as he pulled away to bow to you when it had ended. You’d matched his gesture with a curtsy, and accepted his arm to return you to the table.

Two more hours passed and everyone seemed ready to go back to their respectful hotel rooms. Lacy and James were going to board the flight for their honeymoon on the following Wednesday, as everyone was going home, so they were going back to the hotel with everyone else in the party bus.

You sat with Alastor in the corner, only minorly sloshed compared to Denise, who was drooling on the armrest of the chair she was in. Everyone looked ready to fall face-first into their beds except Alastor, Lacy and James. Lacy and James for eager reasons and Alastor because his alcohol tolerance was  _ literally demonic. _

You managed to get to your room and stripped down in the bathroom, blasting yourself awake with cold water and toweling off so you could be more awake as you put on your pajamas.

Alastor was in his chair again, reading the same book he’d brought the first time. You crawled up onto the large bed, eyed the large expanse of it, then put the body pillow in the center hot-dog style.

“There.. You can sleep on that side without me touching you..”

Alastor looked up with a scratch of static, ticking his head to the side as you pulled the covers up over your shoulders and hunkered down into your small pillow nest.

A few minutes passed before you heard a snap, the lights going dim as the blankets shifted behind you. The small lamp on his side of the bed stayed lit, but you’d slept through worse and had no issue falling completely out cold to the sound of soft static and the turn of pages.

* * *

Bit of cringe and Entitled Parent vibes for this one.

Shoot me your thoughts, questions, and concerns in that pretty little box down there-! VVVVVVVV

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Happy reading-!

Pistol Out.


	14. The World's Hottest Chocolate Bar and Unfortunately Timed Revelations

You awoke to the smell of pancakes, and you stretched as far back as you could in your ridiculously comfy bed as you yawned.

“Good morning, my dear-!” the familiar radio-static-laced call of your roommate brought a sleepy smile to your face as you stumbled out of the bedroom to collapse onto the couch in the living-room portion of the suite. Clutching a throw pillow to your chest, you curled up around it, your feet braced against the armrest and your head tucked near the center as you dozed.

“Now, now, enough of that..”

You felt a pinch to your ear, and you whined in disapproval before curling deeper into the couch, lifting your arm to cover your ears from future pinches.

In hindsight..

That may have been his intention..

For the second time since meeting him, Alastor decided to bring the tentacles of darkness into your daily-life.

In this instance, they were summoned and ordered to wrap around your limbs in restraint and a free one ordered to dig into your armpit.

_ "AHAHAHAHAHAHAHAAAAHHAAAAHHAAAA-! YOU BASTAAARD STOOOOOOP- AHAAHAHAAAAAHHAAAAAHAAAHAHAHAHA-!” _

“I’ll have you know my mother was married,” he quipped, settling onto the seat to your right and setting his and your plates onto the coffee table. Regrettably the only _real_ table you had for use was covered in spare wedding regalia.

You shuddered weakly as the tentacles disappeared, leaving you to shiver in the cool air as you sat up and snatched up a fork to dig in.

“Mean,” you muttered, stuffing the triangle of pancake into your face and biting back a nearly orgasmic moan. “Good food, though..”

“Yes, that sorry excuse for a breakfast bar had far too many suspicious fingers near it,” Alastor muttered, digging more politely into his own stack and occasionally giving you a glance when you’d make a silent,  _ incredibly pleased _ face. “Is there anything planned for the day?”

“It’s hangover Sunday,” you shrugged, “No one’s likely going to be up until around noon or later and if they do leave they’re either going to go to church or a casino. It’s a coin toss with James’ and Lacy’s broods in the same building.”

“Anything in particular you wanted to do today?” he asked curiously.

“I want to find someplace that sells nothing but deep-fried Oreo's and elephant ears,” you murmured.

He chuckled at your proclamation, but said nothing else for the rest of the meal.

_ Las Vegas, look out. _

_ Alastor and Wisteria were hitting the town.. _

* * *

In no particular order, you had prevented a mugging, got caught up in a bank robbery, took a picture with Guy Feiri in a restaurant famous for Fair Foods, beat the shit out of Lacy’s father in an unmonitored alleyway when you caught him skulking in the hotel lobby and realized you may have a  _ small _ crush on Alastor.

This  _ unfortunately timed _ revelation occurred when you had both split up in a gift shop and you had returned to find him standing at the candy counter looking at each product as if he were trying to solve the calculations for NASA’s next expedition. He’d asked the cashier in a quiet voice what usually worked well as gifts for _dames_ as he had put it..

_ Alastor disliked sweets.. _

You’d cemented that  _ fuck, maybe you were a little in love with him, _ when you found the small bag of confectioneries tucked into your suitcase later that evening, the rest of his purchases sitting on his chair neatly and without mention as he freshened up in the bathroom mirror, ready to return home..

_ Home.. _

“...Ready, Al?”

“Whenever you are, my dear,” he nodded, twirling his mic in hand and slashing at the air to rip a hole through space itself, showing the pale furniture of your livingroom and the strong sunlight beaming through the windows.

“I’ll see you tonight,” you murmured, waving him off with your hand and ducking your head as he reached out to tug at your cheek.

“Smile darling, it won’t be long at all-!”

“I’ll just miss  _ your _ smile, I guess,” you shrugged, grinning as he pinched your cheek faintly harder before releasing it altogether and turning on his heel to walk stiffly through the rip. “Give Chester a cookie for behaving-!” you reminded him  _ loudly _ before it could close.

You could have  _ sworn _ he’d rolled his eyes.

* * *

The car ride back from the airport to your cabin was filled with minor anxiety as you took slow, deep breaths and tried to rationalize,  _ once again, _ that you were  _ not _ in the wrong for  _ mentally _ crushing on a serial-killer- _ demon _ and that it was inevitable to feel  _ something _ after sharing the space with him for so many months..

_ Tell that to your pounding heart and the need to pull over to scream into your travel pillow.. _

You finally made it home and unloaded your suitcase, your fingers lingering on the zipper that held the chocolates as you sheepishly glanced at your purse.

He wasn’t the only person who had snuck off to buy candy..

Walking in the house gave you a sense of nostalgia, and you breathed in deeply more out of habit, only to take a longer, deeper breath at the heavy, welcoming scent wrapping around you even in the entrance hall.

“Mmh.. Al.. What’s cookin’..?”

You poked your head in, jolting slightly at the sight of the dining room. The small circular table was back, along with a soft white tablecloth and a small bouquet of blue roses..

_ Your heart was beginning to strangle you.. _

Alastor leaned out of the kitchen doorway, holding a silver serving tray with a large silver cover hiding it’s contents. “Take a seat, dear, you look ready to collapse.” He left the dish floating midair as he moved to pull out a chair, angling toward you ever so slightly with that knowing smile.

_ Gods, how did it take you this long to realize you were screwed? _

You took your seat carefully, reaching up a hand when both of his tugged at your cheeks, the arms above and around you stilling sharply when you’d settled one palm across the back of his ungloved hand.

“Al.. thank you.. For coming with me to Vegas, and making it one of the best trips ever.. For always making dinner or helping me with it.. You’ve made my life.. A lot more fun than it ever would have been without you..”

“My dear,” his hand pulled out of your feather-light grasp and your chair was turned around sharply, the figure of your demon-friend bent almost completely in half to look you in the eye, a smirk on his face as you stared. “It was truly my pleasure..”

You nodded, smiled faintly and turned to look at the silver dish settling onto the table by itself. “What are we having tonight..?”

The odd energy-tingling mood broken, Alastor swept himself up to full height and spun your chair back around in the same instant he plucked the lid off of the dish to reveal two plates, several small dishes of assorted sauces and sparkling cutlery.

“Greek Shrimp with Tomato and Feta-!”

“It looks delicious,” you whispered.

_ "Bo _ _ n Appetit _ !”

You shivered at the french and dug in, a smile on your lips as you enjoyed the cuisine.

_ You were home. _

* * *

“Hey Al, I got you something.”

The deer demon cocked his head to the side, turning to look over at your form slouched along the couch, a red and blue device in your hands he remembered from your ‘cool down’ in the limo. The same music and fighting noises were coming from it, but your words had been the only thing to break the concentration he had on his novel.

“Oh?”

“I put it in the freezer for you,” you spoke with a lower tone of voice, most of your focus still on the game in your hands as your feet kicked back and forth above you, a pillow the only thing keeping you from face-planting into the couch cushions. “In a dark green bag..”

Alastor gave a hum of acknowledgement, closed his book and got to his feet to get it.

You hunkered down lower into your couch nest, sliding the blanket up and over your head until hardly your eyes and face were visible, the switch coming down until you were almost completely hidden as Alastor returned, holding a tiny foil-wrapped rectangle of some kind and watching as you slipped completely out of view beneath the blanket.

“Darling, what is this?”

“Try a bite before you comment,” you suggested faintly, the words muffled by the blanket even as you curled up deeper beneath it, the game oddly silent.

Alastor eyed your blanket-ball, settled onto the couch beside you and pulled the corner of the foil away with the tips of his claws.

At first, it looked like milk chocolate, hardly bigger than a pair of postage stamps. He recalled telling you once that he wasn’t a fan of sweets, and remembered countless occasions since where you’d offered more savory or spicy alternatives to your shared late-night snacking. 

His head ticked to the side as he broke off a single square of the comically small rectangle, bringing the piece to his lips and biting down.

The  _ heat _ of it hit him first, the searing  _ nostalgia _ of chili spice accompanied by a nearly  _ hellish burn. _

_ It was  _ **_delightful-!_ **

“Darling~”

His purr was almost sickenly sweet, and he grinned in earnest as you shivered under the blanket and peered out of the top of it.

“ _ I love it. _ ”

You shuddered again, but the blanket fell enough to show your gentle, pleased smile. His hand reached out to thread through your hair, and he used his teeth to break off another miniscule square as his other arm tugged you close enough that you were nearly sprawled against his side.

The Switch was off in your hands, and the blanket falling around your lap, but your cheek was pressed against the side of Alastor’s chest, and your breathing was slow enough to not be suspicious as you closed your eyes and mentally  _ keened _ .

“It was incredibly thoughtful, darling,” he assured you quietly, looking over the small bar now hardly bigger than a silver dollar and then looking down to you at an angle. Your eyes were closed and you were sitting perfectly still, crushed up to his side by his arm and not saying a word. “Did you want anything in return for it?”

“I just thought you might like it,” you said for the first time since getting blasted in the face with Alastor’s gun-powder and wooded forest scent, “I don’t want anything..”

“Come now, my dear..”

His grip tightened on your hair and suddenly your head was tilted up, red,  _ red _ eyes locking down into the bright yellow of your contacts.

“ _ You shouldn’t lie to a demon..” _

You had.. No family-appropriate words for this situation..

He took another square of the  _ delightful _ treat into his mouth and you swallowed thickly, staying silent as his hand drifted out of your hair and settled behind your neck. Had it been anyone else, they likely would have found the shift threatening..

But with how touchy-feely and close Alastor liked to be, well..

_ And how touch-starved you usually were, if you were being honest, too.. _

_ There was nothing like this that he could really throw at you that would upset you, it seemed.. _

He finished off the treat with a melodious hum, taking the time to lick his teeth and lips before returning his attention to you, taking delight in the fact that your face was flushed the color of the peaches in the fridge.

“ _ Well, _ ” he prodded, flexing the fingers he had around the back of your neck and watching as you blinked up at him in silence. The static in his voice was thick, thick with amusement, and thick with  _ promise.. _ “ _ Nothing to say, my dear?” _

“Just..” your words were faint, lacking the actual _ voice _ of them and more breath than words, really. “Just wanted.. To see you happy..”

He tilted his head down, using the thumb of his hand to tilt your chin up as he hovered over you, causing you to lean back at an angle as he nearly towered over you on the couch.

“ _ Well, congratulations, darling, I am incredibly happy with the gift.. But are you  _ certain _ you had no other agenda with such a treat?” _

You swallowed again, the thick of it caught in your throat as you slowly shook your head.  _ You were honest in that, at least.. No matter if he looked like a fucking sex god eating painfully tiny chocolates.. _

That was more of an unplanned _ perk _ , really..

“ _ I really should thank you, _ ” he murmured, the static almost completely masking his words as his free hand joined his other in cupping your face, tilting it up and back. You were getting close to falling backwards, bracing your elbows onto the arm of the sofa and clenching your fingers into the hems of your pajama bottoms as he knelt beside and above you, caging you into the corner of the couch like a blue-dressed mouse. “ _ It’s only _ ..  **_proper._ ** _.” _

The gentle fan of spicy breath brought your mind to a slow crawl, the shift of fingers from cupping your face into curling into your hair numbing your brain until the world was a pleasant wall of fuzz and static around you.

So, it was more than a little understandable that you didn’t  _ immediately _ register the fact that his lips had pressed into yours.

There was pressure, sure, and the flowing, give-and-take press of lips against yours was  _ bound _ to get your attention, really.. Maybe even the  _ tongue _ that slipped between your gently parting lips as you fell into the warm  _ haze _ around you further..

But it was quickly followed by the realization that  _ your demon roommate was making out with you, _ which was also  _ regrettably _ , quickly followed by  _ FIREFIREFIREFIREFIRE- _

“HOT-!”

Your screech made his record skip _loudly_ as you scrambled out of his arms, literally  _ diving _ for the floor so you could swipe up the can of half-finished Sprite you’d set out an hour or so ago.

It was far from freezing, but it was enough to calm the first of the flames, your whimpers more due to the fact that  _ godfuckingdamnityoujust _ **_had_ ** _ togivehimfucking _ **_hot_ ** _ chocolatebeforehekissedyou- _

“ _ Darling _ ..?”

You tried to pull away the can to answer him, but you were gasping as the heat spread from your mouth and through your body. “Spicy- _ So spicy- too hot-” _

His ears flicked back and down and if he had been a lesser man he would have  _ sighed in relief. _ He didn’t claim to be the most charming man alive, but he’d certainly never had a dame  _ leap from his arms to get away from a kiss.. That part usually came later.. _

“My apologies, darling,” he murmured, reaching out a hand to snap and wave a glass of milk into existence, watching intently as you whimpered in relief and hurried to drown yourself in the glass, gulping harshly and making soft, pleased noises in the base of your throat. “I didn’t think that such a small treat could have such..  _ Heated side effects.. _ ”

You strangled to laugh through your pain, reaching out a hand until you’d curled it around the hem of his sleeve. His hand picked your’s up instead.

His fingers threaded through yours, curling around the comically small palm and holding it firmly as you worked through the tall glass, stopping twice to breathe as it was empty and murmuring a harsh ‘Thank-you’ when he’d refilled it before diving back in.

He rubbed his thumb over the top of your hand, watching with soft,  _ red, red  _ eyes as you stuck out your tongue and eyed the reflection of the inflamed taste buds through your game console.

“Would you like anything for your tongue, darling?”

_ More kisses- _ your brain was far too needy for your tastes, so you quickly signed ‘ _ ice-cream’ _ before remembering that  _ fuck he probably doesn’t know sign _ and trying for a slurred “Ichk, Cweam.”

“Ice Cream,” he repeated, nodding faintly with a soft head-tick at the motion of your hands but not commenting, for now. He got to his feet, finding an odd reluctance to release your hand before giving your knuckles a soft press of lips. “I’ll be but a moment, my dear..”

He slipped out of the room to get the treat himself, and you settled back into the couch cushion, curling the blanket around your legs and winding your arms around them tight as you closed your eyes and  _ breathed _ through the faint pain.

_ He.. kissed you.. _

_ Alastor  _ kissed _ you. _

_ You just made out with Alastor on your favorite couch.. _

You wanted to squeal.

You wanted to scream and twist and turn until you were rolling back and forth on the floor like you had with Chrys when she’d been accepted into Julliard.

Your hand tingled from where he’d kissed it, but not with heat from the chocolate.

_ You wish you had thought to give him anything  _ other _ than the hottest fucking chocolate in the world. _

_ Then again.. His pleased, honestly happy expression was worth the pain right now, even remembering the face he’d made, nostalgia and adoration mixing quickly into devious intentions.. _

“I’ve brought your reprieve,” he announced, entering the room and carefully handing over the bowl filled almost artfully with perfectly sphered balls of peanut-butter chocolate ice cream. There was even a fluff of ready-whip on the top with one of the cherries you’d bought the day before.

_ Gods, you adored him, didn’t you..? _

The thought.. Wasn’t as anxiety-inducing as you thought it might be..

Instead, as you stuck the chilled spoon into your mouth with a guttural moan and listened intently to Alastor talking about the chocolates that they had in the twenties, you felt nothing but thick, sludgy  _ love _ , cloying and syrupy and  _ sweet _ soaking through every pore of your body as he spoke, listening intently to every word.

_ You loved this man.. _

* * *

**How much would you hate me if I left it there~? -Pistol**

* * *

_ If Alastor had been clingy before.. It was nothing compared to now. _

“Hey Al, I’m heading out. Need anything specific from the market?”

“Grocery shopping? Wonderful-! There are a few recipes that I’d like to whip up that require certain sorts of prime cuts.. If we get there early enough, we may find the best selections..”

Sitting in the dining room with a thick folder of files and software pricing research..

“Darling-! You simply  _ must _ tell me your thoughts on this gravy.. It’s not too spicy..? No? Good-! I was hoping to have it with the potatoes..”

Sitting in the living room with a PS4 controller in hand.

“Dear, you’ve been playing that horror game for  _ hours, _ does it even-  _ did you just brain that man with an axe-?.. _ Well, I  _ suppose  _ I could sit here and  _ observe..” _

_ Gods, you loved having him cling.. _

Was it a little strange that you were so easily capable of dealing with clingy people intent on having your full attention 23/7?

HA-!

_ No. _

You had a twin sister, six immediate cousins, five of which were also girls, and who also had various groups of similar-aged friends..

You also had a decade of experience with Lacy and more than enough experience with cats and dogs to know the signs of  _ I want attention, now-! _

It was far more endearing than it could have been annoying.

“Hey, Al,” you were going to do it. You were going to ask  _ that question. _

“Yes, my dear?” he lowered the newspaper slowly, looking across the table to see that you had finished your omelet and were twirling your fork between your fingers, watching him from the blue fluff of your bangs. It was incredibly endearing to note that you were flushed, both from being full and by the fact that you weren’t even looking him in the eye as you spoke.  _ Oh, that just wouldn’t do.. _

He reached out his arm, easily crossing the span of the short table, tilting your chin up with a single finger.

You met his eyes quickly, not like a frightened rabbit, but fairly close.

“Can we try kissing again?”

_ That.. came out a little more bluntly than you intended. _

The radio  _ skip _ accompanied Alastor’s twitch, and his hand slowly lowered as you gave a quiet, awkward laugh. “Sorry, I know you’re not much for touching, and kissing kind of requires that so feel free to pretend the last minute and a half didn’t happen-.. Ha _hah_..”

“ _ You’ve wanted to?” _ Alastor's disbelief carried into his tone, and he could only blink incredulously at the young woman in front of him, a single finger dragging and curling a long blue lock of hair as your artificially yellow eyes peered into his face. He inwardly hoped he hadn’t looked half as astounded as he felt. “ _ After what happened the last attempt?” _

“It was spicy chocolate,” you muttered, more aggravated than anything as you flicked your eyes to your plate and  _ burned red. _ Gods, did he have to sound so surprised that you wanted to try again? The kiss had been  _ wonderful  _ for the two or three seconds before the chocolate on his tongue kicked in, and then _ hotpainagonyfire _ and the moment was over. “Really,  _ really _ spicy chocolate.. I’m sorry if I didn’t get the point across, but up to that moment, I felt  _ swell _ .”

His metaphorical feathers perked up as he inwardly preened, knowing certainly that he had been far from the worst sort alive and inwardly, silently relieved that he hadn’t ruined any chances of  _ that _ happening again for being too  _ eager of all things _ after such a treat.

You watched his smile widen and the corner of his eyes crinkle as the two fluffy bits on top of his head twitched softly, and if you had to bet money, you’d swear his tail was quivering at the sheer  _ delight _ he was radiating.

“ _ Darling~ _ ”

You gulped as he leaned forward, cupping your face in his hands and clearing the table with an absent snap on the way so he could pull you closer over the already short space.

Your eyes were wide as they looked into his, and he hummed softly before pressing a kiss to the tip of your nose.

Your nose scrunched up as he chuckled, and finally, _ finally- _ he pressed his lips to yours, starting just as careful and slow as he had that first time.

You lost yourself just as quickly as you had before, static brushing across your mind and skin as you pressed closer, meeting his kiss tit-for-tat and taking great care to go  _ slow _ .

You didn’t know his limits yet, that would be something to talk about..

But for now, _this_..

_ This was perfect.. _

* * *

**Please drop your reviews in that pretty little box below-! I take compliments, criticism and am very eager to answer questions without spoiling the story-!**

**So, give me a ring-!**

**-Pistol**


	15. Teacher, Teacher, Call My Name

“Lacy,” you greeted the face on your phone, smiling indulgently as you looked upon your now married friend, “I owe you another trip to the spa.”

“Did you confess-?!” Lacy was screaming in delight before you could confirm or deny it, the frame shaking and shifting as she bolted through her house until she found James and dive bombed onto the couch to sit beside him, holding it up so they could both see the flustered picture of Wisteria brushing her hair and sitting at her vanity. “You owe me twenty bucks, James-!”

“Damnit, Wisp,” he sighed, reaching into his pocket for his wallet while his wife giggled and looked upon you with no small amount of smug affection. “So, how did you do it?”

“ _I_ didn’t,” you clarified, surprised by James' sudden “A- _hah_ -! _I_ won the bet-! Pay up, sugar-lumps-!”

Lacy looked as if she’d been betrayed, but poutingly pulled out her own wallet to palm over twenty dollars as you glared at the couple.

“Seriously guys?”

“Hey,” James held up the hand with the twenty, waving it for emphasis as you glared at him. “It was an easy bet, Wisp. We both know you’re not romantically confrontational for a reason. If it was going anywhere, it would have been started by him.”

“Well, darn me for thinking she’d grow a spine,” Lacy grumbled with her lips in a full pout.

“He kissed me.”

“ _He did what-?!”_ Lacy’s pout was out the window and she was squealing again, bouncing up and down and shaking James’ shoulder as she did so. “James-! Jamie-! Did you hear her- she said that Al-”

“I know, babe,” he huffed, reaching out his arms to pull her close and practically smother her still-squealing face into his chest as Wisteria rolled her eyes heavenward. “Congrats, Wisp. When are you making it official?”

“After I talk him into making a Facebook account,” you shrugged, looking mildly constipated. “He’s not really sold on the internet, yet.. He grew up practically Amish..”

“That’s.. Mildly horrifying,” James whispered, guiding his wife back up for air and directing her to the screen to see you looking flushed and troubled.

“What’s wrong, Wisp?” Lacy asked, her voice far softer than it had been a moment before.

“I want to invite him to Christmas, but it feels.. A little early for something like that,” you shrugged, rubbing at your neck and glancing at the door. Al had gone out to go grocery shopping and you had taken the initiative to call your friends. You’d be calling your sister in a little while, too.. “I _really_ want him to meet and get along with my family, but they’re..”

“A bit much,” James deadpanned.

“Christmas alone hosts around twenty people,” you sighed, rubbing at your forehead to banish the headache creeping on you. “At _least_..”

“Talk it out with him,” Lacy assured you in her calm, motherly voice. “See how he feels about it.. And don’t forget to clear it with your Nana a couple months in advance, _at the least_ , you know how she is about family sweaters and blankets..”

“ _Oh god, the sweaters,_ ” you whisper-yelled, shock coating your face before you flushed a _deep, dark red._ \- _Alastor in a dark red Christmas sweater.._

“Shit,” James murmured, seeing the steam practically spilling out of your ears. “Wisp, when.. Have you two _done_ anything.. Extra?”

“We’ve kissed a few times,” you murmured, rubbing at your cheeks and _desperately_ trying not to keen in front of your friends. “Oh _gods, I’m going to have to knit him a sweater.._ ”

“Tradition is tradition,” Lacy sing-songed with a smile. “But you should probably take care of yourself before you wind up jumping him..”

“I’ll.. do that later,” you muttered, regretting _ever_ becoming close enough to your friends for them to know your kinks.

 _You knew about theirs, too, but bondage and candle wax was hardly as bad as_ clothes and audiophilia.. _Not to mention the sharp teeth thing and the fucking neediness you craved.._

You were fucked.

Plain and simple.

_And not in the way you wanted to be, unfortunately._

“We’ll let you get to that,” Lacy gave you a wave and a blown kiss. “Give Al our best, kay?”

You saluted, and hung up, checking the clock and seeing that it was late enough in New York that she would be awake after whatever party she went to the night before.

“Happy Saturday, Strawberry Shortcake,” you greeted almost robotically as you were greeted to the sight of your sister in an upgraded Starbucks, her bright red hair pulled up on top of her head in a messy bun and her sweatshirt a soft pink that brought out the blue in her hazel eyes.

“What’s up?” Chrys lowered her frappe and gave you a curious, mildly suspicious look. “Did you get arrested?”

“No,” you rolled your eyes, knowing full well that it was a reasonable concern and setting your phone back onto the vanity so that you could finish putting on a small bit of makeup and do your hair. “I wanted to let you know that I’m.. seeing someone..”

“No shit, really?” Chrys’s preppiness overrode her immediate concern and she leapt for details before you could even derail her. “What’s his name? How old is he? Do I know him? Where’s he from? What’s he do? Does he-”

“Pause-!” you quipped, waiting until she’d caught her breath before you answered as carefully as you could. “His name is Alastor, but he goes by Allen or Al. He is in his thirties, thirty-two I think.. You _don’t_ know him, I’m sure.. He’s from Louisiana. He’s a Theater Arts graduate.. He does monster make-up.. Cosplay, Macabre, stuff like that.. A real 1920s American history buff.. And before you ask, no we haven’t had sex. We’ve kissed four times not including pecks on the cheek and I want to know if you would back me up on the idea that I should bring him out for Christmas.”

Chrys blinked quickly, trying to process the info dump as succinctly as she could before slowly giving you a nod. “I’d be cool with you inviting him to Christmas.. I’d have to meet him first, though, ya’ know? Give him the break-her-heart-bust-your-knee-caps convo..?”

“That’s Gramp’s job,” you deadpanned.

“Would you be splitting the holiday with his family, too?” she asked.

“Ah,” you stalled, flinching before shaking your head, “He’s kind of.. Alone.”

“Invite him.” Chrys’ voice was almost _sharp_ as she demanded it. “If Nana finds out you didn’t bring your boyfriend-”

“Boyfriend is such a _naive_ word,” you murmured, tugging at your hair and braiding it up and back, letting a good portion of it spill beneath the braids to fall down your back. You’d _definitely_ make a hair appointment soon, your roots were beginning to show. “He’s more.. _Mature_ in a way..”

“Well, _whatever_ you call him, he’s coming for Christmas, so give Nana a call to let her know,” Chrys pointed out sternly. “Now, did you call to ask me something or drop this bomb?”

“I wanted to know if you’d give me some advice on how to broach the Christmas thing to Al,” you admit with a mild shrug, “And I wanted to double-check that we were still spending Thanksgiving together..”

“We’re still on for November,” she assured you calmly, “Wait- _Al- like the dude from Lacy’s Wedding pictures-”_

“Oh look, I must have left the oven on from breakfast-”

“ _Wisteria Jordan, you’re dating a snacc-”_

You hung up, turned off your phone and let your forehead thump onto the vanity table.

No sooner had you let out a sigh did the front door open downstairs and a comically loud voice called “ _Honey, I’m home_ ~!” Followed by a laugh track.

The smile crept onto your face, and you got up from your bench after double-checking the mirror and slipped out of your room to go down the stairs.

You were swept up before you could reach the bottom step, gripping onto the shoulders of your unannounced paramour as you were nearly _thrown_ into the air, a breath leaving you in your surprise as you were pulled into a careful, drowning kiss.

You hummed a bit in acknowledgement before drawing back, giving Alastor your best grin, which you could feel was far more dopey than usual after the sudden attack of affection. “Welcome home.. You get the good cuts?”

“Only the best,” he assured, you, pressing a kiss to the crown of your head before turning on his heel and making his way to the kitchen, with you still caught in his arms as well. “It was such a marvelously nice day out, I figured we’d pack a lunch and spend it outside-!”

“Sounds fun,” you nodded easily, settling onto the counter where he sat you and watching as he put the ingredients he’d made the shadows bring in away by hand. “I should still have some pool toys and things in the basement.. Do you own swim trunks?”

“Not that I’m aware of..?”

“I'd offer to let you borrow my cousin’s, but you are _way_ too tall,” you chuckled, leaning back on the palms of your hands and admiring the fluff of his tail as he bent over to tuck the sauces on a lower shelf.

_Fuck, he was so cute.._

“If you had an example of material, I’d easily be able to copy it,” he assured you, standing back up and shooting you a glance when he noticed you were looking innocently up at the ceiling. _Little minx.._ “What would you like for _lunch_?”

_You._

“Sandwiches,” you tried for the second thing that came to mind, reaching out and up as he bent down to curl his hands behind your thighs and lift you effortlessly back up to his chest. Your ankles didn’t lock behind the small of his back until he’d wound an arm around your back and another beneath you, holding you close and tight as he settled his chin into the fluff of your hair and eyed the cabinets over your head.

“Mmmh.. perhaps some egg salad for a side.. Fresh fruit with a bit of caramel sauce for your apples..”

_Gods, this man.._

* * *

Alastor had a hard time keeping his eyes in respectable places.

You were a gorgeous dame, he wasn’t so blind or willfully ignorant to deny it. Your hair was lush and healthy and a deep, dark blue and your skin was just between being peach and mildly tan from time in the sun. He had seen you in those _tank tops_ with the thin straps and the tight fabric and the _denim shorts_ that looked closer to underthings in Vegas, but he hadn’t been in any polite position to appreciate any view.

Now, however..

_Now he could watch and admire as much as he liked.._

You were lounging on an inflatable raft you’d blown up with the help of a small pump, though yours was far more wide and flat and had a butterfly shape with many bright colors on the top of it.

He was on the small dock, not wanting to risk popping the craft with his claws, foot or hand. Instead, he lounged back in a comfortable white chair with a towel rolled up behind his neck and his feet propped up so he could read in the sun.

You were spread out beneath the beaming sunlight, the curve of your backside hidden only by a _green bikini_ nearly bringing him to tears the moment you’d walked down the steps to your private portion of the lake. Even now he had a hard time tearing his eyes away to make sure you didn’t fall asleep and drift out into the center of the crisp-blue water source.

Your hair was piled up on your head in an artfully messy way, held up by a headband and many colorful clips. You had been wearing sunglasses, but had given them to him before getting on the float, not wanting to lose them and not wanting the “funky tan lines.”

His own swimwear was far different, a near full-body suit that covered up to his forearms, and down to his knees. The pattern closely followed his normal coat, a bright red with lighter red pinstripes, and he had black flip flops courtesy of you and his own sunglasses.

It was a beautiful day.

Even better was the music pouring from the radio he’d floated from the house and onto the doc for you both to enjoy.

An hour or so passed, and you paddled your way back to the dock with lazy waves in the water, reaching up to dock yourself by gripping the heated wood and looping a cord around one of the poles. Alastor helped you up with a hand and you settled onto the open chair beside him as he opened up the old-style picnic basket he’d found in the cupboard, one you remember using a lot as a child over the summers.

“For our lunch today, we have smoked ham and cheddar sandwiches, accompanied by egg salad, sugar snap peas, red apples with caramel sauce, strawberry jello, and fried jalapenos.”

“You spoil me,” you immediately dug into the sandwich, humming in appreciation and listening to the water splash against the stilts of the dock.

You finished with a soft sigh, folding your cloth napkin up and putting it back into the basket as Alastor nibbled on jalapeno peppers, stretching out onto your chair and closing your eyes to soak up the sun.

“Do you have somewhere to be for Christmas?”

_You.. really needed to learn to think shit through.._

“Not.. that I’m aware of..” Alastor tried.

He seemed.. Confused..

Okay, you _might_ be able to salvage this..

“So, there’s this _get-together_ my grandparents have every year,” you tried for casual as you folded your arms back behind your head, keeping your eyes on the few clouds that dotted the pale blue sky. “And it’s a chance for the whole family to gather together and catch up and things..” You risked taking a glance to your left, but Alastor had mimicked your posture and lounged back, rolling a jalapeno between his thumb and index finger slowly, back and forth. “I was.. Wondering if you were going somewhere, or..”

“Darling, if you wanted to spend the time with your family, I’m hardly going to object.”

“Oh, thank the gods,” you huffed, letting out the most _relieved_ sounding breath he’d heard in a while. “I was worried you wouldn’t want to be around so many people.”

“ _Wait_..”

You halted, turning your head to him in worry as his radio skipped, and then fell silent as he turned to you.

“You.. wanted _me_ to come?”

You blinked slowly, cringing slightly when his face remained still and unreadable. “I thought.. That was obvious..?”

 _Apparently not,_ you unknowingly both thought at once.

“Okay,” you murmured, flopping back into your original slouching position. “We need to work on communication.”

“So it would seem.”

You rested for a few more minutes before you brought up something else.

“We should.. Probably set some boundaries..”

He hummed, more curious than anything as he turned to look at you, though you kept your eyes firmly on the water.

“I know you don’t like touch.. But you like kisses, or so I can assume by your past actions.. I just need to know if my touch is going to be welcome or not in certain.. _Areas_ of you..”

“Darling,” Alastor’s voice was lower with the gravel it took to choke his throat. How was this human woman so.. _Bloody thoughtful.._? “Let’s start with you..”

“Please stay out of my office.”

There was no hesitation in your voice, and while he was mildly surprised at the _immediate_ insistence, he gave a firm nod. “You have my word. Anything else?”

“Not really,” you shrugged, “But it can be subject to change depending on a situation.. I haven’t really thought through my hard limits, yet.. I’ve mostly been worried about crossing yours. I get that you have Haphephobia, but it might be selective, so-”

“Half-of-a-what?” Alastor tried to repeat, then shook his head. “Darling, I don’t think I understand..”

“Haphephobia; a mild to severe dislike of touch,” you explained with a mild frown, furrowing your eyebrows as you crossed one knee over the other and turned to face him, sitting up straight. “I did a little research on how to work around something like that.. It’s half the reason you and I were able to get along so well.. I’ve also narrowed down that you are _not_ a psychopath, but in fact a _sociopath_ , which is an entirely different ballpark, and that while I’m almost certain you are at _least_ able to commit to a romantic relationship, I’m not certain of your sexual preferences.”

“Aren’t those.. The same?”

Good gods, he sounded so _confused_..

“ _That_ is a can of worms we should open somewhere that I have easy laptop access and a powerpoint ready,” you let out a heavy, mildly resigned sigh. “Last time I gave someone the sexuality and romantic involvement talk was back in junior year of highschool.. I might be able to tweek the presentation I saved in my folders..” you were muttering to yourself at this point as you moved to pull the floaty along the dock to the beach area, “Should be able to finish it tonight, might need to make a day of it, you’re bound to have questions and the sheer _mass_ of information is enough to make the most level-headed of people balk..”

Alastor tidied up the sitting area and followed after you, watching you use the pump to suck the air out of the floaty to roll it up back for storage.

He had to clear his throat as you pulled on a robe, somehow seeming _more_ coquettish as you dried off your limbs for good measure and trooped inside.

He was herded expertly onto the couch and given the remote with strict instructions to “Entertain yourself until dinner.”

You disappeared up the stairs and into your _mysterious_ office; an office he had now sworn to stay out of.

_Oh well, perhaps one day you’d allow him inside.. For now.._

A few fumbled clicks of the device in his hand and he’d brought up the serial-killer documentary channel, settling into the couch with a smile and clicking his fingers for a bowl of popcorn to materialize into his lap. A wave of the hand and the seasoning he prefered flew in from the kitchen to his palm.

_Perfect._

* * *

The next day, around noon; Alastor had, at your insistence, snapped a desk into existence in the living room, while you shoved the couch back, pushed the coffee table aside, and set up your make-shift presentation by casting the screen of your computer onto the television and kept a small remote in hand. You’d put a clean notebook and two number two pencils, freshly sharpened onto his desk, as well as a small hand-held sharpener and a large pink eraser.

It was going to be confusing, so you were silently encouraging him to take notes.

“Right,” you nodded, biting your bottom lip as he sat down and folded his hands on the desk, leaning forward just slightly like a model student. _Right_ . “Let’s start with what you _do_ know. For now, we’ll start with your personal reflection.. Your name is Alastor,” you gestured to his person carefully, standing tall and calm and cursing yourself for having to give a _demon stuck in the 1920s a goddamned sex talk._ “You are a demon who has resided/and/or/still resides in Hell..”

Alastor nodded simply, knowing that you had a point to this and not wanting to pull you off the train of thought. The fact that you were taking this so professionally was a bit of surprise, but he figured that it shouldn’t be. You were a very straightforward and honest person. For you to want to educate him, to help him understand how the world has changed and how he was identified..

_It was incredibly intriguing and he would be lying if he tried to say that he wasn’t more than a little curious about where this was going.._

“Let’s talk about preferred pronouns,” you clicked the slide, showing several figures of varying features on the screen and PERSONAL PRONOUNS in bold at the top. It was a rather elegant PowerPoint; teal banners over cream backdrops with firm, but slanted script in black. “These are the ‘self-labels’ I had mentioned previously.. Sometimes, when someone is born with male genitalia, they have the inner understanding that they are _female_ , and the same can be vice versa for a person born with a woman's parts.. This is called _gender dysphoria,_ and because it is usually caught on so late, treatments tend to be.. _Drastic_ and sudden.. Until we are able to complete these transitions, which have been granted to us by modern medicine through both medication and surgery, there is the period of self-reflection where we find out _what_ we are.. For someone with male genitalia, but truly believes they are a woman, they will have _female pronouns,_ such as _she_ , and _her._ ” You paused as soon as you noticed Alastor scribbling into the notebook, waiting patiently until he’d looked back up to continue. “For someone born with female genitalia, but truly feel they are a man, their pronouns are _he_ and _him._ ” More scribbling, you waited until he’d finished.

“Alright, good so far,” you gave him a faint smile, then used a pointer stick with a comical mickey-mouse glove on the end with a pointed finger, directed at the centermost of the five figures on the screen. “You can be one. The other, both, neither, or _any-and-all at once._ This person in the center has _gender dysphoria_ , in the case that they are either _both_ at once, _neither_ , or one or the other on a given day..”

“Wait- wait- so their gender.. _Changes_ .. On the _day_?” Alastor held up a hand, holding the pencil hesitantly over the page.

“Sometimes it stretches out with one gender or non-gender over a larger period of time,” you admit in a careful, slow voice, “But that doesn’t mean it can’t or won’t switch due to situational changes.. I’m not _too_ familiar with this particular case, but I have multiple acquaintances who are of the above with the wrong parts. One just recently finished his transition last year, actually, and you’ll likely meet him at Christmas.. You don’t need to know _all_ of this, you just need to know that it exists.. If there comes a time later that you want to learn more about it, I’d be happy to either give you my laptop or get one for your own personal use to research it yourself. You can ask me about anything, but I can’t promise to know everything.”

“The internet is so strange,” Alastor muttered, rubbing at his temple and making a note before giving you a nod. “Best continue, dear..”

“Alright,” you nodded, clicking the remote again and bringing it to the next page.

_Romantic and Sexual Attraction._

“This is where I think we’ll be spending most of our attention,” you admit, pacing a bit in front of the mantle, your head low enough that it didn’t constrict his view of the slide as he scribbled away dutifully. “Despite popular belief, romance and sex are _not_ the same thing.”

Alastor paused, staring at the screen for a moment before raising his eyebrows higher on his brow.

“Do you have a question?” you asked calmly.

“Yes,” he nodded, twirling the pencil between his fingers with expert, deft precision. “Stating it in this manner implies that there are relationships that function without sex entirely.. Is that false?”

“No, it’s actually pretty spot on, Al,” you smiled, bright and proud as you nodded back. “Way to go-! You’re already getting it-!”

“I don’t..” he paused, tried for the words, then started again. “In every.. _Relationship_ , if you’d call it that, sex had very much been a deciding factor in the relationship continuing.. Whether this relationship was a means to an end or not isn’t _truly_ important, I don’t think, but..”

“Actually, it is,” you pointed out, seeing his surprise and clicking the button again, showing several different terms and their definitions. “For people who are capable of a romantic interest in someone, but not sexual interest, would make this person _Asexual_ , or _Ace._ It means that no matter what you come to think, feel or _experience_ , sex will never hold an appeal for you. It’s not as uncommon as you might think, too, a lot of people in the last two decades have rallied with the LGBTQ+ community, which is a community for anyone who isn’t wholly and completely straight..” You paused, watching him scribble before looking up again. “For someone who is capable of sexual experience and connections with others, but holds no ability or interest in forming a _romantic_ connection, this person is referred to as _Aromatic_ or _Aro._ And for what you implied, there _is_ a category of person who requires romance to be able to perform sexually.. This person is labelled as _Demisexual_ or _Demi._ ”

He scribbled a bit more and you nodded when he’d looked back up, his brows furrowed in deep thought and his smile strained at the edges.

“Back in my day, they called the first sexual dysfunction..”

 _And it wasn’t talked about unless it directly affected you_ , you silently noted, remembering the straight-lace values of the times via classroom history lessons.

“Well, here’s to modern discovery,” you raised an invisible glass and gave him an encouraging nod. “Do you need a minute to process, or would you like to continue?”

“There’s _more_..?”

“Oh, hun..” you whispered, mildly sympathetic and only slightly amused. “There’s a _lot_ more..”

He sighed, slow and staticky, before waving his wrist and setting his pencil to the page with new-found determination. “Give it all you’ve got, darling.”

 _Oh, you’re going to regret that,_ you internally winced, but complied.

“Okay, let’s start with the Romantic attraction part, first..”

* * *

_Okay.. so it was a little surprising, but you could manage to look him in the eye without going beet red, so that was a wonderful start._

“Alright.. So, to clarify,” you pressed both of your palms flat together as if in prayer, the tips of your fingers brushing your lips as you held your hands over your chin. “We have come to the final conclusion, that you are..” You lead off the statement with a soft, gentle encouragement.

Alastor was quick to pick it up, holding his notebook in his hands proudly as he stood in front of you like a second-grader giving a book-report they thought they did _particularly_ well on.

“A sociopathic demibisexual with selective Haphephobia. And that is _okay_.”

“And..?”

“My pronouns are him and he, and I have absolutely _no_ idea how this is supposed to apply to me outside of this situation.”

“It’s not meant to do more than give you information right now, Al,” you assured him calmly, packing up your ‘teaching post’ to neaten up the area. “We can talk about Soft Limits and Hard Limits for everyday life _tomorrow_. Tonight, because it is so late, we are going to order in and relax with Tim Burton..”

He tucked the notebook into his coat and reached out his other hand to help you up from your kneeling position on the floor. “My apologies for dragging it out so long, darling, I just had so many questions..”

“And I was happy to answer them,” you assured him firmly, “Don’t ever think that there needs to be a right or a wrong time to ask me something.. There might be an issue with _place_ but that is _easily_ rectified by finding a spot away from people to talk alone.. I want you to feel comfortable asking me things, like I am with you..”

He hummed, his hands cupping your cheeks slightly and rubbing at the tanned flesh. A smattering of freckles had appeared across your nose and cheeks from so much time in the Georgia sun, and while it was _severely_ adorable it battled with his instinct to lean forward and _kiss them, good lord, what were you doing to him?_

He pressed a kiss to your forehead, and summoned the phone from the end table to press it into your hands. “I believe you have a better grasp at _order-in_ establishments.”

“Don’t sound disgusted,” you chided playfully, slowly reaching up a hand for him to see before pulling at his cheek with playful animosity. “It’s a long drive. And sometimes it’s _good_ to have emergency pizza..”

“Homemade is better,” he grumbled, but said not another word about it as he moved to gather the _necessary_ embellishments for the soon-to-be Tim Burton Marathon.

About a dozen more pillows, your respective blankets, popcorn, candy for you, leftover deli meats for him. He relaxed into the couch and pulled you down to sit beside him without warning, causing you to yelp into the receiver with an aggrieved. “ _Alll.._ ”

He grinned, as he always did, though this one seemed fairly impish as he pulled you into his side and settled the lush white blanket over the both of your laps.

“Yes, hello, I’d like a meat lover’s supreme and a cheeseburger pizza with no onion and the pickles on the side.. Both large.. Yes, some cheesy breadsticks.. no thank you, we’re good on drinks..”

You relayed your card information and set the phone aside, watching absently as Alastor flicked Netflix open and brought up Beetlejuice.

_Tomorrow would be another lesson in limits and self-reflection, but for now you were content to cuddle up to your paramour and doze lazily in wait for the pizzas._

* * *

“Good,” you nodded, sighing in relief as the second and _final_ day of limit-finding came to a close. You hadn’t thought explaining sexuality and self-discovery would lead to a three-day binge of nothing but discussions and meals of order-in between movies.

“Safe words are so strange,” Alastor sighed, clearly just as exhausted as you as he slumped down onto the couch and tugged you into a tight hold to burrow beneath the blankets together. “I’d rather not do this again..”

“We’ll do it if we find the need,” you informed him sternly, though you were just as tired and it lacked a lot of bite. “For now.. This is fine..”

Alastor made a groaning sound, a rumbling noise that echoed darkly in his chest as he buried his face into your hair. “I don’t want to get up..”

“One power nap and then we make dinner,” you bargained, tucking yourself closer to his chest and stilling as he adjusted his hold on you before settling yourself. “I’m so _sick_ of pizza..”

“Fine, fine,” he murmured, almost slurring the words as he seemed to fall off completely into sleep.

_Gods, you were falling in love with this man.._

* * *

_**Extra Long chappie just because.** _

**_Follow me on Instagram @ pistoltd to see my artwork and illustrations for the story_ **

**_If you feel the urge to make your OWN fanart I HIGHLY encourage it-!_ **

**_Just send me a link if you'd like it posted here as well_ **


	16. Office Ban

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I am SO SO sorry for spacing off the update-! I've been moving house all week and I've been passing out directly after I finish packing up every night. I legit thought it was Thursday until I was talking to a friend on Insta. ^_^"  
> Anyways, happy reading-!  
> Pistol Out.

“Hey, Al?”

“Mh?”

“Do you celebrate Samhain?”

The question seemed to throw the demon for a loop, and he lowered his book to see you furiously mashing buttons on your controller, eyes trained on the high television screen in front of you as your character ran from the forever-smiling village of Pill Poppers.

_ We Happy Few.. he’d been quite entertained by it, but there had been a novel calling his name from the shelf all week.. _

“Aside from a sacrifice or two and a brief bit of meditation, not much,” he admit, watching closely as your focused expression twisted in thought before clearing again.

“Well,” you murmured, his eyes hadn’t looked away yet, so he could see the way you were bracing your shoulders, as if waiting for an immediate rejection. “I was thinking.. Maybe we could go haunted-house hopping..? They’re not  _ actually _ haunted, but they’re supposed to be fun..”

Your cheeks were flushing a deep rouge and he found himself  _ intrigued _ by the deep red painting your face. “Darling? Whyever would you go to them if they didn’t scare you as intended?”

“It’s.. well, it  _ was _ .. A tradition for my sister and I..”

“And you’d like to continue this tradition with me?”

“..Only if you’d be interested.”

“Darling-!” His inside voice was promptly replaced with his radio-entertaining  _ shout _ and you jumped a bit in surprise and rushed to pause your game because that tone usually meant-

_ You were going to be picked up. _

_ "I'd be honored to join you on your little adventure-!" _

Gods, you adored this man.

Your smile was sappy and warm and you reached out a hand slowly, letting him watch its trajectory before gently cupping his cheek. His head tilted slightly into your palm, so you brushed your thumb across his cheekbone and gave him your idea.

"I was thinking, since it will be a holiday where people will dress up.. If you felt like going out in your normal form, I wouldn’t mind dressing up..”

“You’d be willing to walk through a haunted house with me as I am?”

“Yeah, I wanna see which cast person screams first.”

“ _ Ah _ . That is actually a fun prospect.”

“I know, right-!?”

* * *

“Hey Al?”

“Hm?”

“Can I borrow your coat?”

Alastor lifted his eyes from the novel in his hands, raising his eyebrow when he noticed the way you were standing in front of a giant, long plastic grey tote. By the way you’d lugged it into the house after going out shopping for essentials, he figured it had to be quite heavy, though you’d outright refused to let him near it, stating it was a  _ surprise. _

What a  _ tease _ you were.

He slipped out of the treasured coat without a word and folded it before handing it over, watching you take the proffered fabric with a surprising amount of care as you closely inspected the pinstripes.

“I’ll be needing this for the day.. Would you mind terribly if I returned it around dinner time?”

“Not at all, dear,” he was so  _ curious _ about all of this, but he could be patient.  _ Rome wasn’t built in a day, after all.. _

“Thank you,” you chirped, reaching out until you’d grasped his hand with your own and kissing the tips of his fingers. You spun on your heel before he could react, taking a firm hold of the tub’s handle to drag it up the carpeted stairs with the coat clutched close to your chest with the other arm.

Alastor eyed the hand you’d kissed for several moments, or minutes, he wasn’t sure. There was a faint tingling you’d left behind in the imprint of your lips, and he flexed the digits experimentally.

Finally, he managed to curl his hand into a fist and flick his eyes up to the empty landing at the top of the stairway.

_ You’d gone into your office again. _

_ The suspense was going to end up killing him. _

_ Again. _

* * *

You spun slowly in the comfortable leather of your desk chair, eyeing the machinery littering most of the space along the walls and the single bookshelf stuffed to the brim with journals, printed scripts and craft project blueprints. There was also a singular file cabinet, impeccably organized, but it was inside the closet and locked up tight. Also inside the closet were shelves upon  _ shelves _ of crafting supplies. Rolls of yarn, bolts of fabric, modelling clay, oil clays, foam clays, paints of almost every color and many,  _ many _ brushes and sponges.

A 3-D Printer was propped up in one corner next to an actual printer/copier, with a large slanted desk beside that with a sheet of graph paper clipped to the corners, slashes of blue in a design sketched out almost obsessively over a course of two hours the night previous. At another corner was a sewing machine and a rack of fabric bolts, as well as a spinning lazy susan that had a tiered holder of colored threads, your Grandma’s preferred method of organization you had adopted long ago.

_ When you prepped for your self-isolation, you  **prepped.** _

You’d returned Alastor’s coat the night before, but you’d already finished what you’d needed.

Your excuse, handing it back, had been that you wanted to mend the ragged bottom hem by hand. 

And you  _ did _ .

But it also gave you the opportunity of taking some casual measurements, and a few pictures to help the design of your  _ surprise _ along..

Amazon was amazing and so was Etsy, you had absolute love for almost everything you’d bought from both places.

_ Which would be arriving within the next few days, if the receipts were to be believed.. _

Fixing your chair forward again, you eyed the bolts of fabric sitting innocently across the lacquered surface, taunting you with their purpose.

_ You  _ really _ hoped this didn’t turn out looking cheap.. _

Alastor narrowed his eyes at the picture you made in the living room, slouched along the couch, facedown in utter defeat and completely dead to the world as you snored softly under your breath.

_ What could  _ possibly _ be giving you so much trouble? _

He flicked his eyes to the stairs, cringed despite his ever-present grin, and sat stiffly onto the couch, reaching out to guide your head onto his lap and curling his fingers into the thick blue mess that was your hair.

Oddly, it smelled of vanilla and strawberries.

“Oh my dear, what  _ shall _ I do with you?”

Understandably, you did not respond to his remark, though you did unconsciously nuzzle into the warm hand in your hair and the soft fabric beneath your cheek.

Alastor sighed, setting the radio to something jazzy and quiet enough for background noise as he took a glance at the calendar. October 5th.

Hmph.  _ Samhain's surprise couldn’t come soon enough. _

* * *

Your fingers ached with the amount of  _ precision _ it was taking to force the sewing machine into doing your bidding. You were just thankful you didn’t have to  _ sew the pinstripes in. _

That was a sure nightmare if you would ever have one.

Finishing off the last of it, you carefully extracted the excess from the machine, snipped it with tiny scissors, and set to burning the ends down.

Standing up from the workbench, you flapped the fabric out and sharply held it up for inspection in the harsh white light of the ceiling dome light.

It took you a few minutes to turn it right-side out and inside out again, triple-checking for any loose threads and such before declaring the second-hardest part of the costume done.

_ Now, all you needed to do was tear apart those..  _ Adult purchases _ and set to rebuilding them into the ears so they would move.. _

_ You astounded yourself with your own genius, sometimes. _

Four hours later and you wiped the sweat from your brow with no small amount of pride. Wires, computers, and  _ electronics in general _ . You truly were in your element.

Taking a glance at the clock on the wall showed it was nearing three in the afternoon, the shut blinds and drawn curtains preventing even the smallest slips of light to come through.

A glance beside the clock to look at your kitten calendar said that it was October 15th.

_ You were ahead of schedule. _

_ That was good.. _

Setting the ear and tail skeletons onto the corner of the desk, you rubbed at your face again with your small purple handkerchief before getting to your feet.

The harsh rumble of your stomach reminded you that you’d skipped lunch, and you winced in guilt as you’d forgotten to tell Alastor you be busy.

_ Oh, well.. He’s a grown demon, he can entertain himself for a meal or two.. _

Provided the meal wasn’t human, of course.

* * *

“What.. the  _ fuck _ , Al?” you muttered, both deadpanned and  _ mildly _ taken aback at the sheer amount of  _ blood _ in your kitchen.

_ He went fucking hunting and decided to skin and butcher the deer in the damned kitchen. _

Yeah, that wasn’t going to happen again.

“Ah, Darling-! So nice of you to join me-! I found this rather impressive buck grazing in the woods and decided to have a bit of a hunt to cure my boredom this afternoon-!”

“You are  _ so _ lucky my Nana isn’t here,” you tut, sidestepping a dripping puddle on the floor, knowing he’d leave the room spotless again but still mindful of tracking it elsewhere. “She  _ tanned _ our hides when we got frosting everywhere.. I don’t wanna  _ know _ what she’d do to you..”

“She sounds similar to my own mother,” Alastor muttered absently, still dutifully carving at the skinned corpse.

You blinked quickly, surprised at the comment but respecting his inherent  _ don’t ask about it _ vibe. “Alright.. Do you need any help?”

His ears perked up, and you saw his tail twitch in surprise before he’d turned to look at you, his surprised smile turned rapidly  _ eager _ .

“By all means, darling-!” He held out the knife, and you were careful to walk across the bloodied floor to take it in hand and allow him to put his hand over yours, fixing your grip a bit on the knife and standing directly behind you to guide your hand through the process of carving off the good meats. His front pressed snugly to your back, and you took a slow, deep breath in as the familiar scent of fresh killed deer and Alastor’s natural musk clouded around you into something both  _ nostalgic _ and  _ pleasant. _

“Cut  _ with _ the grain, not against it,” he warned, his voice low and almost stern sounding as he walked you through the process of butchering. “Just like this..  _ Good.. good darling.. _ ”

You shivered, your bottom lip slipping between your teeth as you forced yourself to focus on the way his hand was guiding yours, the other covering yours as it held the base of the buck steady.

“What.. what are you going to do with the skin..?”

“Oh, I thought it would make a nice set of scarves or some such,” Alastor hummed, his breath warming the top of your head as you worked in the soft, quiet atmosphere of your bloody, musty-smelling kitchen. “Perhaps a shawl or a pillow..”

“I look forward to seeing what you decide on,” you murmured, relaxing further into the impromptu embrace and losing yourself to the  _ slice, slice, slice _ of the sharpened blade through slick red meat.

The repetitive motion and his guiding hands was as soothing as a scalding hot shower.

_ Slice.. _

_ Slice.. _

_ Slice.. _

* * *

Your eyes followed the drift of the 3D printer as it worked, it still had roughly nine more hours of printing left, give or take twenty minutes, though you’d been watching it closely for two hours now with no small amount of worry.

This was the last piece of the costume you needed done. When this was finished, all you would need to do was airbrush it and figure out the makeup style you wanted. A glance at the clock showed it was eleven in the morning, so you gave a heavy sigh and marked off another day on the calendar. It was now October 20th, and you were growing anxious with the thought of Alastor’s opinion on the outfit.

You were fully prepared to throw it into a bonfire if he didn’t approve of it. You had plenty of decent cosplay to slip into at the last minute, so there wasn’t anything hindering a backup plan.

_ It was just.. _

_ You  _ really _ wanted him to like it.. _

_ Not just because of how much painful work you put into it.. _

You just..

There was a knock at the door, and you jolted in surprise before flinging yourself at the corner to pull the sheets over everything important.

Cracking it open, and seeing the 3D printer not even close to looking like it was anything in particular, you allowed Alastor to stand in the doorway; not entering, just looking down at you with his red,  _ red _ eyes and his golden-toothed grin.

“My dear, I came to ask if you’d like to try the jerky from your  _ dehydrator  _ machine-! It doesn’t even draw the natural flavors away, which I find incredibly delightful-!”

“Sure Al,” you murmured, taking a final glance over the room before shutting the door behind you. “I could eat.”


	17. Does This Tail Make My Butt Look Big?

_You were going to be slaughtered._

You gulped in tense silence as you stared at the reflection you presented in the full-body mirror you’d dragged into your office that morning.

Your makeup was flawless, skin smoothed over and a few shades paler with freckles the color of sapphires sparkling across your cheeks and nose.

Your nose also had the faintest black shaping on the underside of it, flat but animal-esque.

Your lower arms had also received the pale-skin-paint treatment, and your nails were colored black. On your torso was a sky blue pinstripe tailcoat, with the pinstripes a thin baby’s breath blue color. On your legs was a pair of navy dress pants with sky blue cuffs, with black dress shoes on your feet. You’d even gone the extra mile to paint and gloss a pair of sapphire deer prints onto the bottoms.

Your undershirt was a soft baby’s breath blue, just a touch off from white, with a sky blue upside down cross down the center. Around your throat was a deep blue bowtie with a fake sapphire brooch holding it in the center.

Your hair had been fluffed and while you knew Alastor had his tips a darker mahogany, you put yours into a faint solvent that would last only a few days and leave the tips pure black. You’d also clipped a pair of ears Bluetooth-connected to your phone on the top of your head, the same brilliant blue of your hair with the tips blacked out.

On your butt, just at the apex of the tailcoat split on your rear, a fluffy blue tail with a creme underside sat undisturbed, also connected via Bluetooth to your phone.

_You have a knack for apps and software._

Gulping a final time, you plucked the sky-blue radio staff from the desk, twirling it almost expertly between your fingers after so many months of baton twirling in middle-school.

_You got bored of the extracurriculars and switched out a lot, okay-?!_

Taking a deep breath in, you cracked the door to your office open and called out to the demon you’d left sitting in the livingroom with strict instructions _not to move a fucking muscle_.

That was two hours ago.

_This was going to be a bitch to take off if he decided to let you live._

“I’m comin’ down, Alastor.. Keep your eyes closed.. And don’t peek with Chester or the rag-a-muffins-!”

“ _As you wish, dear_ -!”

His mildly distorted voice of static calmed you ever so slightly as you slipped out of the office and tiptoed your way down the stairs.

_I’m going to die.._

_It was nice knowing you, world.._

Stopping at the entrance to the living room, you held your breath as you looked at Alastor’s side profile, one knee crossed over the other and his hands folded politely in his lap. Exactly as you’d left him.

_You were so going to die._

Taking careful, cautious steps across the thick carpet, you waited until you were a good six feet away from his sitting figure and directly in front of him before you cleared your throat of the nerves bunched there and said, “Okay.. you can look now..”

His eyes fluttered open, and you looked intently at the _red, red_ of the iris and sclera with nothing short of patient fascination. You’d never be able to recreate something so naturally _him_ , so you’d settled for ocean-blue contacts.

“Hi..” you waved awkwardly with your fingers when he hadn’t moved, the radio static in the air not even offering a record skip to show his surprise as his eyes settled on you and _stared_.

“It’s not.. The _best_ ,” you admit. Your voice was as sluggish as you could manage with anxious thoughts trying to trip their way out of your mouth before you could sensor them. “I mean, there’s no _copying_ you, you know? But I thought this might.. _Accessorize_ well enough.. Red and blue.. Ya’know..?”

You trailed off laughing awkwardly, watching in silence as he just.. _stared_.

“Alastor..?” He didn’t so much as _twitch._

_Fuck, you might have broke him._

You clicked your fingers a few times, frantically waved your arms and then marginally deflated in place.

_Okay- was touching okay in this scenario? In your previous talks, he preferred seeing you move to touch him before you actually did it, but this might be one of those emergency situations where you didn’t have a choice, ohlookhe’sstandingrightinfrontofyou-_

_Fuckhe’sclose-_

_Wait-_

“ _Darling~”_

_Wait-FUCK-_

You shuddered harshly, craning your neck back to look _up, up_ at the man that was your paramour.

“You look..” he paused, his hands drifting out to trace the fine edge of your silk bowtie. Which you’d gotten as one silk ribbon and _not_ pre-tied! Go you-! Though you might die..

“ _Ravishing.”_

“...In a food way or a sexy way?” you couldn’t help but quietly ask.

He didn’t laugh.

_Not good._

His hands drifted down, and suddenly the small of your waist was grasped tightly as you were tugged forward, falling rapidly as Alastor drifted back two paces and sat down into the chair again, leaving you to stumble and fall into his lap, literally.

“ _Oh-_ kay-!” you barked, fingers grasping at the pads of his shoulders and clenching down as you felt his fingers drift, slowly, almost lazily as he inspected every inch of your bodice and tailcoat. “ _Woah_ -there-! Still not solid on that response, dear. Sexy or food?”

His head bent forward to settle on your shoulder, lips dragging up your neck as you tilted your head automatically to the side to provide room for _sharp, sharp_ teeth you knew hid behind those lips.

_This is not helping-?!?_

“Alastor,” you warned quietly, “Words, please..”

_“ **Ma** chéri..” *****_

You shivered from your toes to your hair, feeling every hair stand on end as he started to press kisses slowly up the side of your throat.

_“Votre peau est aussi douce que votre coeur..” ******_

_Oh dear, he’s speaking French.._

“Alastor, I don’t..”

_“Ton parfum est plus doux que n'importe quelle fleur..” *******_

“Alastor..”

“ _Mon doux..” ********_

“Al..” His kisses were sliding up your jaw now, and you were becoming rather light-headed. _What were you asking him, again?_

_“Mon Amour..” *********_

_Okay.. you might know that one.._

Everything in you felt as if you’d stuck your hand in a power socket, brushed by flame and left to bake in the Georgia sun.

His lips pressed over yours - _finally!-_ and you whimpered as a sweet kiss turned searching and pressing in an instant, fingers digging into your coat before long arms wound around your back and crushed you close. The silk of your shirts slid between the two of you almost impertinently, your own fingers digging shyly into the material around his shoulders as his tongue flickered out to press against your bottom lip, slipping between them when you’d let out a faint gasp of surprise.

_Oh, deer.._

You were only mildly surprised to feel his tongue settle into your mouth, slow, teasing licks lazilly exploring the new space as his hands, in contrast, almost fervently fluttered up and down your back, his fingers barely brushing something soft at the back and bottom center of you before he’d pulled back with a hiss, using one hand to pull, or _push you_ really into his chest and craning his neck forward to look down your back-

_You made a damned tail, too-_

_“Essaies-tu de me tuer?” **********_

“Allie,” you reached up your hands as his voice became growly in it’s liquid-silk consonants and vowels, almost puckering his roguishly-smiling face and tilting it down with ease so he would look you in the eye.

“Darling,” you stated this, despite being close to breathless and your lips plush from the happy assault, with the most determined voice you could muster. “Honey-Deer, Sweetie, Love of Life, _my better half- I don’t know_ **_French.._ **”

That did it.

_He was finally laughing.._

He cracked up uproariously, no studio track to be heard as he held you close, nearly crushing you to his chest as you wheezed for breath and he buried his face into your hair between your fake ears.

_Oh darling, what was he going to do with you?_

“Shall I teach you then,” he whispered, _whispered- him-!_ into the fluff of your hair.

“If you wish,” you murmured, fingers trailing absently back and forth across his shoulders as you fought for breath. _You wouldn’t mind another round of that, but- like-_

Haunted House Hopping.

_He already did his sacrifice thing at 3 a.m..._

* * *

You were slumbering in a tent about twenty feet away, but still close by for moral/non-moral support.

He’d settled for a man he’d informed you was a child molester and you had zero fucks to give about him murdering the piece of shit in the mountains.

Dude didn’t even try to deny it when he came to, at about 2:45, he just started pleading for his life and saying he’d never even look at another child.

You’d pressed a kiss to Alastor’s cheek and muttered something sleepily about going back to bed when it was over, and he’d assured you that just being near enough was fine and he’d prefer if you got your sleep. So you’d put on your perfect headphones to block out the screams and settled into your comfy sleeping bag via-radio-demon-wand-summon.

_Fun times with your demon boyfriend._

* * *

“We have places to visit, Alastor,” you reminded him as his lips were soon putting themselves back to your neck, a mild scrape of teeth making a _very_ unladylike noise leave your lips as he seemed to disagree with your prerogative. “ _Allll..”_

“It can wait..”

“But the _screams_ , Alastor-!”

He made a humming noise, sounding faintly torn before he let out a sigh, pressed a single, firm kiss to your lips and swept you up into his arms like a princess to start carrying you to the front door. “Hey- _wait_ \- Al-?”

“The sooner we leave and attend to your “ _haunted_ ” exhibits, the sooner we can _return._.”

You _shivered._

Chester had been sent to fetch your 3D printed blue microphone and your purse after a quick pet to the top of his head. Alastor had narrowed his eyes, his ears dragging back ever so slightly until you’d turned to him and carefully showed your movements before doing the same.

His ears twitched to and fro and he hummed pleasantly as you scratched between them before sitting straight as Chester returned to put your purse in the center console and give the staff to Alastor to hold.

Out of sight, he put a bit of magic into it, smiling impishly when you’d looked over every once in a while as you drove, seeing him looking as if he’d done something and got away with it but not able to pinpoint what.

His wink kind of put you off from asking, your face feeling too hot to handle any smart quips and feeling warm enough to melt the makeup off if it continued too long.

* * *

The first building you hit was an abandoned prison, the guide you were given in your tiny “group” of two an older woman around your Aunt’s age in period-typical Victorian Vampire clothing, fake blood dripping down her lips and her eyes almost glowing red with the contacts she’d put in.

Alastor offered you his arm like a gentleman, and while the lady looked back and forth between the both of you, she didn’t comment and simply flashed her fangs in a smile and led you into the building.

Everything was dim, dark and aesthetically grimy. There were large piles of crunchy leaves scattered about and piled into corners, the lightbulbs switched out for colored ones that gave everything a demonic red glow. Alastor seemed to be enjoying himself, at least a little, the _crunch-crunch-crunch_ of his enthusiastic footsteps compared to the suave and sleek sashay of the guide giving you a small bit of whiplash.

Spooky sounds drifted over the intercom system, ghostly laughter with haunting organs and creaking chain and metal hinges. Every cell you passed either had a ‘dead body’ slumped and positioned dramatically inside, or had an actor slathered in thick blood covered prison jumpsuits, some looking like zombies, others with severe wounds no human would be able to survive.

Like Hatched-head guy.

You liked Hatched-head guy.

He yelped when Alastor and you had shared a look and flashed toothy, sharp smiles at him. His instinctive ‘awesome’ almost drowned out by the scoff of the guide and the rattle of chains over the speaker.

You held out a hand for a high-five, and he was quick to contribute with an ‘awesome costume’ comment before scuttling back to get into his position for a repeat performance of the loop he’d do for the rest of the night.

Alastor eyed the hand you’d slapped palms with and casually, ever so slick, twirled you around on your toes, making your long tailcoat pieces flare out in the dramatic motion and his fingers lacing through yours, tugging you quickly until you were nearly plastered to his side, nose bumping against the flat plane of his wide chest.

You shot him a knowing look after glancing at your hand, but Vampire Lady was already moving on and Alastor took a pep-to-the-step approach to get you going through the rest of the house.

There was a pitch-black room that Alastor guided you through, a room with windows for floors in some places filled with rats, and a walk-through of the prison yard before the exit, where all of the actors were being especially rowdy and aggressive and dangerous, trying to slash at you through the clearly larger-than-issue chain link with their blood-covered fingers and zombie makeup.

You’d lost count of how many times you’d giggled, jumping back from a swiping claw and pressing into Alastor’s side after waving brightly to the teams with a cheery, “You’re doing awesome-! Keep up the great work-!”

The Vampire Lady looked done with your shit, even _she_ had been given a few spooks through it, mostly jump scares, though your go-to reaction was laughter and hers was quite obviously _not_.

By the time you’d left, you could use a bit of a drink. It was a twenty-minute tour of a pretty big facility, the volunteer numbers alone for this place had been through the roof, especially this year, it seemed.

“We should _totally_ get milkshakes to commemorate our first haunted house experience,” you insisted once Alastor had reached the exit with you. A few other guides milling around for groups walked over, more than half looking excited as they approached.

“My dear,” Alastor’s chuckle was like a honey-flavored balm for the soul as he pet you between the fake ears and grinned down with an impish smile, his own microphone staff mirroring yours in his opposite elbow like you were holding it. “Whatever you’d like. This is a night of merriment, after all-!”

“Excuse me-!” It was someone dressed sharply as what you could assume was the basis of a pharaoh, with a set of golden and blue crook and flail in hand crossed over his chest for effect as he grinned. “Sick costumes-! Where’d you score ‘em?”

Alastor seemed taken aback by this human man in golden face-paint and eyeliner, sending a sharp glance at the white skirt with the blue and gold belt and the _lack of shirt_ and the radio host countered his immediate _dislike_ by suavely positioning himself _behind_ you with a sharp grin.

“Why, my darling made them, of course-!”

You narrowed your eyes a bit at his white lie but casually turned back to the Pharaoh as he was joined by a pretty decent Pennywise from IT and a pretty good attempt at Jack Sparrow, though the facial hair was quite obviously fake.

“Yep,” you grinned, pearly fangs glinting in the light and bringing out the blue glitter dusted on your cheeks where freckles would be. “Took a while, but I’m proud of it-!”

“It looks awesome,” Pennywise inserted, hopping up and down a bit and tilting his head at the coat you were wearing, “Do you both have tails?”

Alastor’s fingers tightened reflexively into your shoulders, but it didn’t hurt so you didn’t bother making a note of it.

You nodded quickly, pulling out your phone and turning in place, hearing the trio chuckle a bit in surprise before the Jack Sparrow and the Pharaoh were gasping in shock as it flicked from side to side and the clown let his jaw hang loose.

“How the hell did you make it move?” Jack scrambled, “I mean, I know they make stuff like that, but it’s wicked expensive.”

“Oh, I made it from blue fabric, a white shag rug and I broke down some adult toys to make the skeletons,” you offered with a shrug, waiting the necessary two seconds for the information to click and smirking proudly when the three burst into immediate laughter.

“No shit,” Pennywise cackled, using his sleeves to dab at the corners of his eyes, trying to catch any costume-endangering tears. “That’s awesome.”

You held up your phone, showing off the wavelength and hooking up the ears as well to show those off, too. Alastor remained firmly behind you, though his arms stayed loosely wrapped around your shoulders, allowing you to twist and turn in his hold, but not much else. His expression, as always, bore a big grin, but it was far less enthusiastic than it could have been, with his eyes narrowed intently on the men trying to pick your brain for your process.

Eventually, you were able to wave them off when their supervisor hollered for the Pharaoh, waving goodbye after taking a couple of group pictures and dragging Alastor back toward the car in the now visibly more-full parking lot. You could probably hit two more places before the night would be considered over, but first, you wanted a milkshake to commemorate the night.

You pulled Alastor along to the car, settled in and gave Chester a good scritch to the top of his head for being such a good boy inside and behaving.

“Don’t _I_ get a treat for behaving?” Alastor’s voice was far more sultry than it had been on the way _in_ to the ‘house’, so you attributed this intense, focused sort of mood on the fact that you were doing something gore-y.

It didn’t occur to you in the slightest that the three men might have been eyeing your figure for reasons _other_ than your costume. And most of them might not have thought of that, either.

Your demon boyfriend, however, was another story.

“Alright, alright,” you chuckled, leaning forward to press a sweet kiss to his cheek, catching Chester making an exaggerated gagging motion from the back and sending him a narrow-eyed pout in retaliation.

Alastor’s lips caught your cheek before you could pull away, and when you turned to face him, his lips pressed over yours and his fingers buried themselves into the thick of your hair, holding tightly.

You sat in the lot for about ten minutes before he released you, blushing up a storm and fanning yourself with a hand as he settled back into his seat, black lipstick smudging his mouth and making absolutely no move to remove it.

_It looked.. A little lascivious._

* * *

The milkshakes were amazing, the cashier looking spooked out of his young teen mind as he held out the tray with the order and watched the both of you inhale chocolate and strawberry ice cream and demolish a basket of nacho fries. You’d had to bribe Alastor with an offer to cook _Authentic_ New Orleans gumbo sometime in the coming week, and your tastebuds cursed your existence while your eyes feasted upon the sight of Alastor eating with a plastic knife and fork out of a shiny red fry basket with dripping mostly-artificial cheese.

_God it was hilarious and hot.._

“Next stop.. Haunted Warehouse-!”

Alastor grinned, pressed a kiss to your wrist from where you'd thrown up your arms in excitement, and allowed you to tug him playfully back to the car in eager anticipation for the tours to come.

 _Your smile was radiant and playful and had_ just _a touch of malicious deviance that it sent his poor, dead heart_ soaring.

_He could get used to this sort of tradition.._

* * *

The scream was shrill and had the two of you laughing as you walked through the nearly pitch-black exit-walkway of the haunted warehouse. The person you’d just sent off screaming had been handling a fake chainsaw and had squealed like a little pig in reference to his mask when he saw the glow of Alastor’s eyes and the flash of your white fangs as you slowly walked forward.

So far, a good night.

You’d hit a haunted prison, a haunted warehouse, and now a haunted slaughterhouse.

Both times previous you’d been stopped at the end and asked about your “wicked costumes” and you’d give them a basic rundown of what you did to make your ears and tail and mentioned a 3D printer.

You’d gotten mad-respect for your dedication and attention to detail, and when you mentioned that the both of you were a Creepypasta/Tim Burton OC couple you’d not met a single person who hadn’t burst out laughing and walked off shaking their heads when all was said and done.

When you finished the tour, you took hold of Alastor’s hand and decided to skip the stop-to-chat part of the end bit, wanting now, more than ever, to get Alastor home so you could rest your aching feet and cuddle on the couch..

_...And maybe continue the chair-makeout-session from earlier.._

His hand drifted from your shoulder to your arm as the night progressed, and nearing eleven-thirty, the both of you were in the car on the way home, your free foot tapping anxiously on the floor mat and Alastor drumming his fingers on the arm rest. You'd had to nearly fight the bastard to wipe the lipstick off of his face, dealing with ten minutes of pouting and a promise of more kisses _later_ before he was peppy and eager to continue with the agenda.

The radio was giving off a faint static as jazz played, and after catching sight of an exit for a rest stop, you thought it over, did a mental-inventory of your car supplies and flicked on your turn signal.

Seeing as you were quite _obviously_ planning something, Alastor sat up straighter in his seat and tilted his head to stare at you, the tapping of his anxious fingers stilling completely as he watched your posture intently.

“..What?” you asked curiously.

“We’ve still at least twenty more minutes of driving, dear,” he pointed out, casual and cool and his _red, red_ eyes burning into your flushed, blue-glittering cheeks.

“Well, I want a break,” you muttered, pulling onto the shoulder before turning your car onto the gravel path. The rest stop was caught between the road and a field of already-picked crops, nothing but dried plants left behind.

You put the car into park, turned it off, glanced at the radio to see that the music was still playing and shrugged it off as you moved to slip out of the door.

Alastor followed closely behind, shutting the door behind him in silence as he moved to round the car to meet you at the boot of it. He watched with curiosity as you opened the lift door, pushing two buttons on either side of the inside wall to put the back seats down, leaving a large flat space open.

His eyebrows raised slowly as you popped open a small storage space in the boot’s floor, pulling out two square pillows, four rolled up fleece blankets, a box of granola bars and two bottles of water.

He idly reached out a hand to rub at your back, silently chuckling at the shiver of your spine as you tried to continue your self-devoted task without falter, setting out three of the blankets like a make-shift mattress on the flat space and tossing the pillows to the corner before climbing in. He assisted you carefully, sneaking in a faint squeeze to the back of your thigh and audibly laughing when you’d turned to shoot him a pout.

You sprawled out across the blankets and beckoned him inside with a flutter of your fingers, rolling onto your side with ease as he slipped in beside you, lean legs stretched toward the open air as his head ducked down to settle at the back of your neck and long, thin arms wound around you from behind to cradle your back tightly to his torso.

You let out a long, content sigh, feeling your eyes slip closed as you felt his lips absently and feather-like brush against the skin he could reach.

An hour or so passed as you breathed in the night air and cuddled back into Alastor’s arms. Every so often, you’d feel the threat of sharp teeth against your skin, and you’d flush and hold your breath until he’d peppered the spot with soft brushes of his lips to distract from the fact that- _sharp teeth near your neck, would be so easy to pierce down into your skin and muscle and_ **_blood-_ **

“Are you asleep, darling?”

Your paramour’s voice cut into your hazy thoughts, and you cleared your throat quietly before you’d turned your head to peer at him from the curtain of your hair.

“Nah.. Let’s go home..”

He hummed, pressing a swift kiss to your forehead before pulling himself out of the back and helping you down by keeping his hands around your waist.

The rest of the ride was quiet, but you only drove with one hand, the other threading fingers with Alastor’s and the prime entertainment of the Radio Demon, who had taken to rubbing his thumb at the lines of your make-up air-brushed palm.

Stumbling inside, you dropped your purse onto it’s usual table, hung up your keys, and were promptly turned on your heels. Your body was swept up into the air, feet leaving the floor and one of your clip-on ears dangerously close to slipping off of your head as you were caught in Alastor’s arms, his swift steps hardly shifting you as he hummed a melody you didn’t know, taking you to the stairs.

“I hope you don’t mind, dear, but I don’t feel the urge to let you out of my arms tonight..”

“So..” you murmured, piecing it together as he came to a full stop in front of his bedroom door. “You.. wanna cuddle?”

“If you wouldn’t mind,” he gave you a firm nod, still staring directly at your face, looking for any reason to think you were not okay with it and fully prepared to put you down should the sentiment make itself known.

Fortunately for him and his sudden urge, you were _fully_ on board the cuddle-train.

“I need my pajamas and to wash this crap off of my skin and out of my hair,” you pointed out, reaching up in his line of sight before you could push the bangs across his forehead. “Looks a lot better on you, anyway..”

He huffed, the warmth of the breath warming your wrist before he’d pressed a kiss to it teasingly and turned to set you down in front of your own door. He fixed your bowtie, trailed his fingers down the lapels and gripped them to drag you forward.

His head dipped as his hands lifted you five inches in the air, and you let out a soft, pleased sigh as his lips pressed and molded into yours, the familiar taste of jerky and wine warming your insides as his tongue slipped between your lips and drew you into a slow, playful dance.

You pulled back to breathe, but he kept his forehead pressed to yours, the most mild-sounding panting you’d ever heard leaving his lips even though you were close to being on the verge of heaving,- _and smeared with that fuckin' lipstick, damn him twice.._

“Don’t take too long, dear..”

“Wouldn’t dream of it.”

Later, with your hair damp and your skin clean, you’d cuddle up into Alastor’s chest as you lay sprawled out on the bed, the soft ticking of the wall clock drowned out by the soft music coming from the radio he’d relocated to his room.

_It was a really nice song.._

* * *

* _ **My** darling_

** _Your skin is as soft as your heart._

*** _Your scent is sweeter than any flower.._

**** _My sweet_

_*****My love_

_******Are you trying to kill me?_

* * *

**Wham Bam and Thank-You, MA'AM-!**

**Leave a Kudos if you love it, crave it and wish to bury it in place of your soul, Comment for my sickening need for validation and Bookmark to keep up with the amazing adventures of Wisteria and her ~~Roommate _Pet_~~ _Boyfriend _Alastor, the Radio Demon-!**

**Lots of Love and Kisses-!**

**Pistol Out.**


	18. Ask the Crew

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> All Questions must be submitted by November first. (11-1-20)

Do you have a question for the cast of Radio Roommate?

Are you curious about the thoughts the characters have of one another?

**DO YOU WISH TO KNOW THE PREFERRED WAY ALASTOR’S SOCKS ARE FOLDED-?!**

_ SEARCH NO FURTHER-! _

I will be conducting a small *ahem* interview with a list of characters from my fic and from the Hazbin universe. The list will be posted below.

If you would like to ask a question, make a request, or simply see a character freeze-framed into an embarrassing outfit-

Well, asking would be a good start-!

Example:

**_Anon: Alastor, how often do you go to Hell?_ **

If you want that question answered, ask it-!

This will be similar to a Tumblr Ask/Answer, including small illustrations provided of the characters if they are the ones being asked. I will have my own little  figure if the question is directed at me. :)

(Remember that not every character knows what the hell is going on with everyone all the time. Their answers may reflect this.)

So, shoot your question/comment/directionless-scream down below-!

**S̶̢͖͍̙̺͂̃t̶̨̛̩̹̊̒̈́͒͑͂̚̕ả̵̢͇̩͖̯̤̱̣̱̍́͆̿͊ẙ̴̡̬̯̭̤̿̽̿̒̍ ̴͖̩͎͇̰̩̎̒̿͌̾̓̇̋͜͠T̴̟̼̜̗̼̪̻̯̪̄̎͌͐͝u̶̧̮̱̗̥̻̩̳̺͆̈́̿n̷͚͕̜̙̞̯̅̔̂̉̉͆͌̆͌͜͝e̸̢̘̻͎̻͓͉͆̏̏̽͊͑̊̄̚ḑ̷̞̰̭͖̗̗̝̿̋̿͒͒͋̕͜͝**

_**-Pistol Out** _

* * *

Outline:

Who are you asking?

________________________

Question/Comment/Directionless-scream

________________________

EX:

Hey Alastor, how are your socks folded at the cabin?

It's that easy-!

* * *

**CREW**

WISTERIA

ALASTOR

ETHAN

CHRYS

LACY

JAMES

MICHELLE

ME(Pistol obvs)

RANDOM(Anyone from the story not listed in the most basic sense)

(Remember the fact that not everyone is omnipotent, and will not have info about everyone or everything else.)

* * *

**You may submit as many times as you like, but not all questions will be guaranteed a moment of spotlight.**

**Have a nice day/night-!**


	19. Shattered Eardrums

Your fingers plucked at the ends of your hair, rubbing the dry strands between your thumb and index finger with a look of mild consternation.

_ You needed a cut.. _

A glance at the dark brown peeking up on top of your head through the reflection of the coffee table made your scowl deepen.

_..and a recolor.. _

“Hey Al?”

“Yes dear?”

The voice carried from the kitchen, and you looked up from the contracts in front of you, your favorite blue gel pen having rolled onto your lap in your lull of focus. You put your elbow onto the back of the couch, turning your body to face the door that led to the hallway. “Do you need a haircut?”

There was a skip, and you smiled. You were still capable of surprising him, it seemed.

The smell of tomatoes and shrimp carried into the living room as your beau walked through the door, a bowl of something being mixed in his arms as he eyed you with consideration. “Do you feel that I  _ need _ one, dear?”

“Nah, I think it’s cute n’ fluffy, hun,” you assured him with a shrug, “I was just going to make an appointment for myself, and wanted to make sure you didn’t feel you needed one.”

“I’m fine, dear,” he nodded, walking forward and leaving the handle of his wooden spoon to reach down and lift your hair from your own fingers to inspect it himself. “Do you plan to cut it?”

“Just a trim,” you shrugged, glancing at the bowl and wondering if you’d have the reflexes to swipe a taste and not get swat for it. “Maybe change the color up..”

He hummed, letting the hair fall before burying his fingers into the thick of it, nails dragging across your scalp slowly and pressing in as you let out a long, happy sigh.

_ He knew all your sweet spots.. _

Well..  _ most _ of your sweet spots.

“Okay, okay,” you muttered, reaching up to take hold of his wrist and kiss the pulse to dismiss his petting. “I need to make a call and get back to work.”

He hummed again, leaving after giving your head a fond pat.

Plucking the cellphone from your side table, you looked up hair salons within the vicinity.

_ Here’s to hoping one of them has decent color.. _

* * *

“Two  _ days _ ?”

You cradled your cell between your cheek and your shoulder as you tugged your pants up your hips. You’d had to wait two weeks for the hair stylist to fit your appointment in, but she  _ had _ assured you that they had color and waxing, which you would be taking full advantage of.

Your pain tolerance because of fighting class was  _ extremely _ high.

It made it all the more hilarious when people expected you to scream, and you never had an issue waiting for them to just  _ pull the damn strip off. _

“ _ Sorry, boo, _ ” Chrysanthemum’s voice filtered through your phone, the sounds of the airport behind her giving it a very crowded feeling as you slipped your feet into your trainers and struggled to bend over and lace them up without dropping your phone. “ _ There’s nothing I can do about it.. All the planes heading that way want to drop me off with layovers longer than that..” _

“I  _ know _ ,” you assured her, switching the phone to the other ear as if that would actually help keep it level as you struggled with the other shoe. “I’m just a little bummed. That’s an entire day of stuff we can’t do together..”

_ “Awww.. I’ve missed your face, too..” _

“We have the same face,” you deadpanned, rolling your eyes  _ hard _ as you finished your task and moved to pick out a jacket. The November air was giving off a sharper chill this year, despite the southern heat, so you’d leave it mostly unzipped on your trips into town.

“ _ Kind of sucks that Nana’s sisters guilted her into spending Thanksgiving with them..” _ Chrys anger bled through her words, and while you didn’t reciprocate the growl of her suppressed rage, you surely  _ felt _ it in your chest. Nana’s sisters, hand to god, were the most  _ entitled bitches _ to ever grace the damn earth.. They’d talked her into spending Thanksgiving at  _ Nana’s eldest sister’s tiny-ass house _ with  _ 36 fucking people. _

Granted, the usual for your get-togethers in the family was around 30, but that was  _ including partners and practical family. _ This was just the  _ main family members _ , not including girlfriends, boyfriends or children.

There were really only twelve of you to account for.. But the partners and bandmates added up..

_ Reece and his goddamn savior-complex, seriously.. _

“ _ Wisp??” _

“I’m here,” you spoke up, breaking out of your aggravation to check yourself in the mirror a final time. “What’s up?”

_ “I just asked if you had a spare key I should know about in case you’re not there when my plane lands..” _

“Chrys, I’m picking you up from the airport,” you deadpanned, “Pretty sure I can use the key on my keyring..”

_ “Didn’t you misplace your keys, for like, a few weeks, though?” _

You inhaled slowly, silently cursing Al for making you feel like a doof on-call with your sister. You were  _ not _ scatterbrained.

“I was just getting used to the place,” you defended yourself quietly, pulling on a green zip-up hoodie and striding out of your room. There was no scent of food to the air, as you’d both already had breakfast, but Al has said something about finding some rabbits to stock up for stew before they went into hibernation.

_ ‘The fat they make is wonderful if they’re baked long enough, darling-!’ _

“Anyway, if you’re  _ seriously _ worried, I have a fake rock on the patio with googly-eyes with a key in the hollow bit.”

_ “..You seriously have a pet rock on your porch?” _

“His name is Louis, and he is  _ fabulous _ ,” you snapped, the reluctant smile stretching your lips stretching into a grin as you spied an apple on the counter with a sticky note on it.

Al’s signature under a brief ‘A Bite for the Road’ made your heart flutter and your smile turn sappy as you moved to put it in your purse.

“ _ Riiight,”  _ her voice trailed off, but you could hear the smile in her tone. “ _ Anyway.. I guess I’ll see you sometime the day after tomorrow, babes.. Think you’ll last that long without me? _ ”

“I think I’ll manage,” you huffed.

You opened the door.

You stepped outside, basking in the sun a moment and glancing towards the forest.

“I guess I’ll see you soon, I need to get to my hair appointment..”

_ "Think you’ll try to emulate your favorite sister this go around?” _

You scoffed, rolling your eyes as you slipped into the front seat of your car.

“I don’t know,” you teased, “I don’t think Nana and Gramps would be able to bear the heart strain of trying to tell us apart again.. Crimson is kinda  _ your _ thing..”

“ _ Oh,  _ **_please_ ** _..? _

“Maybe,” you chuckled after a second of thinking.

* * *

“Welcome to Ashley’s,” the beautician at the counter had her face made up well with thick pink lipstick and professionally-done bleach-blonde highlights in her brunette hair. “Can I get a name, sugar?”

“Jordan,” you grinned, pulling down the hood and letting the lush hair spill down your shoulders with the motion. There was a reflexive  _ ooh _ from the woman, and she was nodding sternly with a glance to her reservation’s book. “And you’re in for a color  _ and _ cut..?”

She regretted the words even as she said them, her eyes staring at the lush waves settled down near your hips. Most of the time you kept the front, collar-bone length portion as is and bundled the back up in a messy bun, sometimes a wound-up braid on the back of your head.

“Just a trim,” your words relaxed her a touch. Stylists  _ loved _ to play with long hair, and it looked like you were lucky enough to score one that hated taking too much off.

_ Perfect _ .

“Right this way-!” her cheerfulness was back full-throttle and you turned your phone to silent before settling onto the plush, risen chair. A black curtain cape was clipped around your throat and the woman began brushing it out, eyes intent on the brown roots showing from your skull and the mix of brilliant and dark blue blending through your hair.

“Are you gonna want a different color, or do you just want to ouch this one up..?” she asked curiously, “This would be a mighty nice blonde, if ya’ let it..”

Your nose scrunched up as you pictured it, then shook your head before tilting it back to glance up at her.

“You got a catalogue?”

* * *

Alastor hummed brightly to himself as he wound the cord holding his rabbits to his wrist, making his way back to the house, eager to clean and gut them.

_ Maybe he’d replace those horridly childish slippers she was always wearing with some rabbit-fur moccasins.. _

_ He remembered the day he’d bought a pair for his mother, lining them in the fur of his hunt. How she’d always worn them saying they were her favorite pair.. _

He stalled on the path back, his hand reaching out to curl against the bark of the tree beside him as his other hand fisted into his shirt, right over his heart.

_ Oh, this ache.. _

The bittersweet memories of his mother twisted both teasingly and hauntingly with the knowledge that one day, his darling would meet his mother herself..

_ He hoped.. _

_ He hoped they would get along.. _

He made his way back to the house around eleven, mindful of the time on his well-kept but worn timepiece and tucking it back into his coat as he hung up his hunting cap by the door and propped the riffle onto the table. He’d clean and store it in a moment, but first..

The sound of humming filled the home, as well as music more suited to the taste of his darling. Something  _ synth-ish, _ she called it. He rolled his eyes, his grin feeling soft at the edges as he stalked silently through the home, peeking into different rooms and finding a figure knelt at the foot of the fireplace, several movies scattered around her knees and a yellow shift falling off of her shoulder..

_ Her pale shoulder.. _

He inwardly groaned as he walked slowly across the carpet, fingers curling slightly before he’d settled them on her hips and buried his nose into her bright, crimson hair.

She froze solid, and he inhaled a citrus scent coupled with strawberries.  _ New shampoo? _

_ “Darling..” _ he purred, dragging his lips down the back of her neck, a flash of teeth just as he  _ knew _ she enjoyed, scraping teasingly along the skin. “ _ Did you miss me?” _

Her head turned, and he felt everything in him freeze at the look of  _ shock fear horror- _ before she-

_ Shattered his eardrums. _

_ “AAAaAAaAAAaaaAAAaAAAHHHHH-!” _

* * *

**Don't forget to ask the Characters your questions-! You can find the asking format in the Ask the Crew chapter in the Chapter Index. You can submit the form on any chapter, I'll get them either way, so if you can only add one comment to a chapter for some weird reason, you can space them out without it being a problem.**

**I'm really looking forward to fleshing this out!**

**-Pistol Out**


	20. (Re)Introductions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Don't forget to submit your asks for the Q&A-! You can ask more than once, and you can also provide (reasonable) requests or commentary-!
> 
> Deadline for the Asks is 11/1/2020
> 
> Outline for the Asks is provided in the ASK THE CREW Chapter-!
> 
> Happy reading-!
> 
> -Pistol Out

You hadn’t changed much from your hair, but if you lifted it up from the bottom, it showed off a deeper, more purple sheen. You were eager to see what Alastor thought of the soft color-fade and wanted to know his opinion on whether or not you could fuck with his hair.

_ Maybe make it pink..? Or black.. _

He could always magic it back if he didn’t like it..

You yawned as you opened the door, dropping your purse onto the side table next to Alastor’s gun as you passed it and ticking your head to the side at the odd sound of knocking further in the house.  _ Odd.. but okay.. _

There was the muffled sound of what you assumed was Alastor talking, and considering you had caught Alastor scolding Chester for the  _ stupidest shit _ sometimes it brought a smile to your lips as you imagined the Cheshire-grinning shadow being scolded like an errant  _ puppy. _

Walking further in the home, you pried off your jacket and hung it in the slightly-open hall closet, trying to strain your ears into picking up the words from down the hall. They were hushed, oddly, and had a soft hint of  _ desperation.. _

_ What the hell did Chester do in the two and a half hours you were gone..? _

“-Isn’t really my.. Dear,  _ truly, _ I didn’t.. I didn’t mean to  _ frighten _ you..”

Alastor sounded..  _ Panicked..? What the hell? _

“Hey, Al-?”

Silence, and then a flicker of static before-

Your breath left you in a rush as you were picked up and  _ crushed _ into his chest, arms lifted high above your head at his obvious tension and his face buried in your hair as your feet dangled near his kneecaps. His breath puffed rapidly through your hair, nose skimming the stands before burying itself into your neck. _ Alright, Allie is not okay, repeat Allie is not okay.. _

“My.. apologies,” he murmured, face still buried in your neck, the words leaving a warm, wet sort of breath on your skin. Your freshly-colored hair smelled off with new dye and salon shampoos, and it made his nose wrinkle, but he could still smell the vanilla body wash you religiously used on your skin, so he wasn’t moving. “I thought I had..  _ Nevermind _ ..”

“Easy, Al,” you kept your volume low, shifting your hands slowly, despite him not watching, until you were able to reach out and rub his back. “What’s the matter? Did you scare a rag-a-muffin or something?”

He stilled completely in your hold, and there was a sharpness to his tension that had you worried.

“Al,” you murmured, patting his back again, “Allie, what’s going on..?”

He slowly extracted himself from your body, his grin seeming twice as wide as usual as his eyes glowed  _ red. _

_ Oh, boy.. _

“ _Nothing at all, my dear~!”_ his radio voice, after so long of not hearing it, seemed extra static-laced and buoyant. _Loud and clear and sharp._ _“Just a bit of a prankster-! Someone decided to break into your home and masquerade as you.. Never fear-! I’ve trapped them in the hall closet- so there’s no need to- ..darling?”_

He cut himself off when he saw you book it for the steps, a look of worry on your face that had his insides feeling like  _ ice _ as he recalled the expression of  _ horror _ he’d seen not ten minutes ago..  _ Or had it been twenty..? _

Time was hard to keep track of when he thought of things like that..

“Chrys-! Chrys it’s me-!”

_ Chrys, _ his head ticked to the side- _ Chrysanthemum- _

* * *

_ “My sister’s coming to town for Thanksgiving, so she’ll be spending it here with me and you in a few weeks.. Is that okay?” _

_ “Perfectly fine, my dear-! The more the merrier-!” _

_ “Hey Al, Chrys just called and said her flight got delayed and they want to layover longer, so she’s just going to take a flight in a couple days..” _

_ “No problem dear, I’ll adjust the menu for something more tame, tonight. Best save the steak for the actual greeting-!” _

_ “Have fun on your hunt-!” _

_ “I will darling, be safe on the roads.” _

* * *

She’s early.

You flinched as French-tipped nails dug into your wrist and wrenched you into the closet, the frantic sounds of your sister’s breathing causing you to wince  _ again. _

“I see you met Al,” you murmured, reaching out to guide her head into your shoulder, feeling her shudder against you and huff breath after breath, slowly, gradually coming down from her adrenaline-fueled panic.

“Left my phone..” she croaked. “On the table..”

“Oh, hun,” you murmured, combing your fingers through her loose red hair, just a few inches longer than your own. “It’s okay.. It’s okay..”

“There’s a  _ monster _ in your house-”

“That’s my boyfriend, and he’s into cosplay,” you sounded out the words as slowly and as patiently as you could, feeling her breath continue to stutter before she’d let out a long, aggravated whine and buried her face into your shoulder with a wail.

“Your boyfriend is an  _ asssss _ -!”

“Yeah, well, to be fair, we didn’t expect you for two days,” you pointed out with a sharp chuckle, “Serves you right for trying to sneak up on me.. What’d he do to scare you?”

“He licked the back of my neck and said some really creepy things in a nice voice,” Chrys whimpered, panic now gone and nothing but pure, steaming embarrassment choking her and keeping her huddled on the floor in the dark. You patiently rubbed her back as she mock-cried, smacking her palms into her forehead. “Gods, I’m so stupid.. I forgot he lived here.. Did you even tell him we were twins?”

“..Fuck.”

“ _ Wisteria-!” _

“I  _ implied _ it-! We have the same birthday-!”

* * *

“I’m so sorry,” Chrys was nearly bent in half as she bowed at Alastor, the motion ingrained from fighting classes and a six-month stint you two had taken together in Japan. Alastor had hurried to shift into Human-form while you were corralling your sister out of the downstairs cleaning closet, rushing to put on a white button up, burgundy slacks and a red tie, with his monocle replaced by circular glasses. “I totally forgot you lived with her, so I didn’t think anyone would be home.. I didn’t mean to scream in  _ your _ face, specifically, but your monster-makeup is  _ seriously freaky, man-! _ ” Her embarrassed apology drifted at the end until she’d turned harshly scolding, a tone not unlike the one she used almost daily on her twin, who was sitting at the coffee table with her laptop and a mountain of files on her left, the blue pen twirling between her fingers as she watched them interact.

“I did  _ not _ need to know about that freaky-routine shit, so  _ kindly _ refrain from pulling that while I’m here,” Chrys finished, fixing her stance to something familiar and more proud as she threw her shoulders back, popped her hands on her hips and looked Alastor in the eye. “We cool?”

Alastor gave a slight nod, and Chrys grinned, happy and bright before holding out her hand. “Now that  _ that’s _ off the table, hiya-! Name’s Chrys-!”

Alastor shook her hand, and you leaned back against the couch with a frown as you noticed the  _ strain _ there as he nodded along to her introduction. “Pleasure to meet you, sweetheart-! Your sister has said nothing but praise of you-!”

“I find that hard to believe,” Chrys chuckled, absently flexing her fingers as she settled onto the floor at your open side and started poking around your set-up. Mostly with the calculator, but it looked like she was going to reach for the sticky notes. “So,  _ Al _ , tell me.. As a man of  _ obvious _ culture..  _ Waffles or pancakes?” _

_ You did not prepare him for this.. _

Alastor stole a glance at you, but rapidly darted his eyes back to your sister when he saw you were looking just as baffled.

In any case..

“..Why do I have to choose?” he asked.

_ Good non-answer, apparently. _

You slumped back in relief as Chrys perked up, reaching out her arms to wrap you tightly into a hug that nearly brained you on her shoulder. “This one’s a keeper, Wisp-!”

Alastor just looked tense and confused, muttering something about making tea before leaving to go to the kitchen.

Chrys waited until he was “out of earshot” to grab your ear and drag it to her lips.

“You have  _ ten _ seconds to tell me why there was blood on the porch.”

“He hunts,” you whimpered, swatting her hand away and rubbing at your sore earlobe, thankful you’d gone without your usual little hoop earrings to the salon. “That hurt..”

“You’re in  _ Georgia _ ,” Chrys stated sharply, “ _ Unsupervised. _ Allow me my panic.”

“I’m sorry,” you muttered, leaning your head back until it was pillowed in the dip between two cushions. “I’ve been getting better.. About thinking before I do shit..”

“Good,” Chrys sighed, and there was a lot of relief in that statement as she sprawled back onto the lush carpet rug, arms spread like an angel and a halo of crimson hair painting the floor the color of a summer sunset.

“I am still pissed at Gran’s sisters,” Chrys complained,  _ loudly and for the tenth time in as many days, _ “What gives them the right to cut her time off from her own kid’s kids and drag her down to fuckin’  _ Texas _ for Thanksgiving, huh?”

“They probably want something,” you sighed, tossing your pen at the table and moving to open your laptop up again. You had a few more contracts to review and a few  _ actual _ calls to make regarding the sale.

“So, how’s the software sale going?” Chrys asked, in a mildly stilted voice. She may know how to work a phone and manage a computer, but she was as hopeless as Nana when it came to updates and software. “You said there were some promising offers?”

“Google wants to buy it.”

“What the  _ shit- Wisp you bitch-!” _

You were being tackled out of your seat as you heard the sound of Alastor’s footsteps halting in the door, your sister rapidly shaking your shoulders back and forth as your eyes rolled around in your skull and your head lolled to and fro. “You  _ absolute bitch-! How dare you keep these details from me-!” _

“Gonna.. Hurl..” you warned.

“Fuck- ew-  _ no _ -!”

Chrys backed off, but she was still vibrating and had started squealing at near subsonic levels, flapping her hands at her sides and bouncing in her seat. “This is amazing-! Fucking  _ Google _ -!  _ GOOGLE _ -!”

“Yeah,” you muttered, rubbing at your ear and waving a hand for Alastor to come closer, he’d stilled at the doorway. Always smiling, but looking severely tense, still.

“How much are they paying you?” she asked immediately. “Because whatever it is,  _ double it. _ You spent three years working on that baby, no  _ way _ are you settling. I couldn’t get you to do shit-all if it wasn’t that or homework or video games.”

“The price will be reflective of my efforts,” you said in an airy, vague tone as Alastor set out three cups, made two the way you both liked it and offered an unmade cup to Chrys, who sniffed it twice and reached for the cream and sugar. You just liked a bit of sugar. Alastor liked a bit of cream.

“They are going to go broke,” Chrys muttered, thought about it, then cringed, “Or.. barely spend anything.. Efforts as in  _ time _ or efforts as in  _ difficulty..? _ ”

“Time.”

“Ah, broke then.”

“Soooo..” you trailed off, finishing your tea and reaching for your water bottle. You were giving your twin a sort of level stare. “Are you going to address the elephant, or is that up to me?”

Chrys looked from you, to Alastor, to her untouched tea, and then put the cup down.

“I’m.. not going to say you aren’t a cute couple,  _ but _ ..”

Alastor’s grip tightened on his cup, though you were the only one to notice, your hand slipping under the table to settle on his knee. And though it jumped from the sudden, unseen touch, the muscle beneath your palm relaxed when you gave it a subtle, reassuring squeeze.

“...Do you  _ really _ have to date a horror-movie make-up artist?” Chrys muttered, aggravation painting her features as she smacked her palm to her face and dragged it down. “I mean, it’s a match made in Heaven,  _ sure _ , but it’s  _ not _ cool for an uninvited guest to come over to see some weird ritualistic _ foreplay _ -”

_ Alastor spat out his tea. _

“-and not expect  _ some _ form of panic-! Bitch, I thought I was gonna be murdered and then  _ eaten _ -! And in only a  _ minorly _ fun way-! Your boyfriend has no right to sound so sadistic and pleased to take a bite out of you-! I need you alive-! You’re my spare parts donor if I need a new kidney or something-! We’ve signed  _ waivers _ -!” She banged her fist on the coffee table for the injustice, but even you knew what her playful animosity looked like, so you weren't as worried as Alastor seemed to be.

You calmly sipped your tea, pulled your handkerchief out of your pocket and held it out to Alastor so he could hurriedly mop up his spit take, his ears burning bright red and his smile strained to its limits. You handed over the water bottle, and he silently took a sip to clear his suddenly dry throat.

“First off, our sex life is none of your concern.”

_ Alastor spat out the water you gave him. _

He coughed harshly, using a different cloth napkin to mop  _ that _ spit take up and simply resolving not to drink anything else.

“And we haven’t done anything, so it’s moot,” you finished, folding your arms across your chest and giving Alastor a considering look. “Secondly, I know I signed the waiver, but if I want my boyfriend to roast me on a spit and eat me, I’ll let you know so he can save you the usable bits.”

Alastor felt his everything  _ burn _ as he rasped out a breath.

_ You were going to kill him. _

_ He was infinitesimally close to finding out where demons go after their second deaths. _

“Swear it,” Chrys growled.

You held out your pinky.

She held out hers, and you linked them before touching thumbs.

“Pinky swear,” you echoed, then let her hand go with a pat. “So, we cool?”

“Air is clean and clear,” Chrys nodded, propping back onto her hands and looking Alastor over from where he was hunched down, metaphorical steam spewing out of his ears as he sat frozen in red-faced silence.

“Your boyfriend is surprisingly bashful,” Chrys noted, sounding mildly surprised.

“He turns pink when I call him my  _ darling dearest, _ ” you grinned, wiggling your eyebrows and watching with your sister as Alastor buried his face in his hands and gave a choked, pleading sound of  _ desist-! For the love of God and Mercy, desist-! _

“That’s so  _ sweet _ ,” Chrys chuckled, snatching up the remote and tossing you a grin, “Mind if I turn on something?”

“Be my guest.”

“Beauty and the Beast it is..”

* * *

Chrys’s jaw fell slack as she stared at the (regular) dining table with it’s boring chairs and it’s boring tablecloth, her eyes settled on the large boiled egg atop her artfully gorgeous plate/bowl.

“What.. the hell.. Am I looking at..?”

“Yakamein,” you shrugged, tossing Alastor a wink when he’d glanced at you, smiling like a dope when his fingers twitched toward you and settled in restraint around the bottle of wine he’d prepped for the occasion. “Al’s a  _ wonderful _ cook..”

“You’re nothing to scoff at, my dear,” his chuckle was strained, but blessedly lacked static.

“Believe me,” Chrys huffed, reaching for her fork as you did so, “If coding and software had fallen through, I would have shoved you at Nana to park your behind in the bakery.. Or made you open a café or something.. You’re too good at cooking not to benefit from it..”

“Your grandmother has a bakery?” Alastor cleared his throat, putting his napkin into his collar as he watched Chrys take a single bite, and then fade into something  _ out-of-reach _ .

“ _ Oh my sweet merciful god, _ ” Chrys whimpered.

“God ain’t got shit to do with his talent,” You huffed, reaching out a hand to flick her forehead.

“Darling,” Alastor murmured, his finger’s  _ aching _ to bury themselves in your hair again..

_ It looked so soft, too.. _

“And yes,” you nodded at Alastor, shrugging a bit. “Nana owns a bakery.. She’s got people running it most days, but she still owns it and bakes there when she finds the time, but CJ, and Skit still live there and Aurora and Belle and Jasmine  _ practically _ live there, so it’s kind of a full-time parenting job when Aunt Franky and Uncle Justin aren’t around.”

“I see..” he murmured.

“Gramps restores old cars and builds dream homes,” Chrys murmured, looking as if every moment she didn’t have her mouth full of food was a moment of her life pathetically  _ wasted _ . “But his  _ true _ passion is cooking.. You’d get along well with him..”

“So long as you don’t tell him how to do it,” you shared a look with your twin, before going back to your meal, Chrys making appreciative sounds every once in a while.

“You eat like this every  _ day.. _ ?”

“Yep,” you nodded.

“Lucky  _ bitch _ ,” Chrys snipped, pouting as she scraped the last of the soup into her spoon to savor it. “Gods, I wish I had a partner for this..”

“Cooking?” you asked, confused.

“Eating together,” Chrys clarified, giving Alastor a considering look when the man had quickly turned away from staring at the side of your face. He looked like a man possessed. In a good way, she thinks.  _ Maybe. _ “Sometimes the food is just  _ better _ on the holidays with the people we love and cherish.”

“Don’t turn this into a Hallmark movie,” you groaned, cringing visibly as you scrunched up your nose and waved your spoon at her. “Leave my home with your Holiday filth.. It’s November, for fuck’s sake..”

“Dashing through the snow-”

“ _ I will cut you.” _

“Oh, don’t pretend you don’t get  _ just _ as pumped about it-”

“ _ After  _ Thanksgiving-! That is the starting mark-! Not before-!”

“Party Pooper-!”

“And you can do the dishes.”

“Oh, come  _ on..” _

“ _ By yourself.” _

_ “Wisp, I’m sorry~” _

“ _ I’m _ going to spend some time with my  _ boyfriend-” _ you felt ridiculous even saying it as you held out your hand and hauled Alastor up to push him toward the living room. “See you later-! We need alone time-!”

“Wisp-!... WISP-! DON’T LEAVE ME WITH THE LEFTOVERS, I’M NOT STRONG ENOUGH TO RESIST THEM-!..  _ WIIIIISSSP-!” _

* * *

**Leave your love down below, shoot your Asks in the proper format and we'll see the crew answering YOUR questions, concerns and comments-!**

**-** **Pistol Out**


	21. DEADLINE APPROACHING

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> DON'T FORGET TO SUBMIT YOUR QUESTIONS COMMENTS AND (REASONABLE) REQUESTS IN THE PROPER Q&A FORMAT BEFORE 11-1-2020-!!!!!!!!!!  
> DEADLINE IS NON-NEGOTIABLE-!  
> STAY TUNED-!  
> -Pistol Out

And on the third to last day, The Creator said-

"LET THERE BE FLUFF-!"

PLEASE PROVIDE YOUR SUBMISSIONS NO LATER THAN NOVEMBER 1ST

PLEASE AND THANK YOU

HAVE A GOOD ONE, FOLKS-!

-Pistol Out


	22. Thanksgiving Turkey

Alastor’s face was buried in your chest, his fluffy ears twitching every so often with the warmth of your breath between them and the cords of his arms wound so tight around your torso and hips that he could crush you if he felt the urge.

_All he felt the urge to do, however, was stay exactly where he was, his face pillowed in your plush blue sleepshirt and the both of you wrapped in the thick grey duvet of your bed._

Your sister had been delegated to the bedroom in the basement, so there would be no need for her to come upstairs unless she were to intentionally bug the both of you. She was _also_ barred from the office, much to Alastor’s private satisfaction; she’d shuddered in fear at the very mention, and while it was a story he would surely weasel out of his paramour one day, _today_ he wanted nothing but _this._

You hummed softly beneath him, and he cuddled his cheek into your chest when your fingers began shifting from their dozing caress along his back to the nape of his neck, nails scraping softly up until you were carding your fingers through his thick hair.

“Morning..” your grumbled rasp was music to his ears, and he huffed in response before pressing his face down harder, knowing he’d be pushing into plush skin had the top been any thinner.

“ _T_ _oo dark to tell.. Back to sleep.._ ”

“Baby,” you murmured, the croon making him shudder as he used his magic to pull the blanket up completely, hiding the both of you into even further darkness, and more importantly, blocking you from either looking at the clock or reaching for your phone. “We gotta get up.”

 _“No._ ”

“Alastor..”

 _“Nooo.._ ”

You chuckled quietly, increasing the pressure of your fingers and listening to him wordlessly croon back, tilting his head into your ministrations and melting onto you like putty.

“I’m going to starve to death, Darling,” you whispered, the words muffled by the thick mop of hair on top of his head. “I’m going to pass away beneath you and you’ll need to suplex yourself into Hell to catch me for such a terribly lame death.”

He scoffed, the sound muffled heavily by your breasts as he lifted his head just enough for the red glow of his eyes to brighten the dark space beneath the blanket.

“You think me foolish enough to forget the fact that I can simply summon food to the bed?”

“I don’t know,” you sang teasingly, reaching up to cup the back of his head and double your efforts into massaging his scalp, smiling impishly when he gave a guttural moan and collapsed face-first into your chest again. “You seem pretty _occupied, Darling Dearest..”_

“ _C_ _urse you and your sweet words,”_ he grumbled, not daring to move an inch as he submitted to the firm press and scratch of your fingertips and nails. It was as close to Heaven as he would ever get, he was sure.

“Come on, hun, up,” you pinched the tip of his ear after patting his shoulder, but he only huffed and rolled to his side, taking you with him until you were the one sprawled on top of him.

“Al,” you warned, mindful of the hard limit you’d discussed. _Always have a way out of touching.._ Your position kind of hindered that..

“I’m fine,” he murmured, his words thick with sleep and something else you couldn’t name as his fingers buried into _your_ hair and he began giving you a _sinfully_ delightful scalp massage in return.

“ _Oh, fuck.._ ” you whispered, collapsing completely over him and burrowing your nose into his soft red sleep shirt button-up. “Allie..”

“Yes, dear?” he asked politely, as if he weren’t digging into your scalp like some demented form of sexual torture. _Well, it’s not like he_ **_knew_ ** _it was sexual torture. You, however, were becoming painfully aware of the bedside table where you kept your personal toys and mentally calculating for how long you’d need them after_ **_this_ ** _encounter._

“I thought you were hungry?” Alastor teased.

“Fuck off,” you muttered, feeling a line of drool threatening to escape your lips as you tried desperately not to grip on to him and halt the excruciating _pleasure/pain._

“Having fun?” he whispered.

“I’m going to blast synth-pop through the house for _hours.”_

“Fine, fine,” he huffed, ears back as he narrowed his eyes, the smile on his face accented by the slightest pout of his bottom lip. “ _For you_ I will face the day.”

You couldn't help it. You kissed the tip of his nose.

“Proud of ya’, babe.. Let’s go make some omelets.”

* * *

“It’s just so.. _Sickeningly_ domestic..”

You glanced up from the pan you were using to flip the hardening egg batter, Alastor busy slicing up the tomatoes as you tossed a glance over your shoulder. Chrys was in the kitchen doorway, leaning against the frame with her teal pajamas with the bright yellow duck print. 

“Shut up and get your omelet,” you said instead of responding to her comment.

“Don’t mind if I do.”

* * *

“So.. Al, are you religious at all?” Chrys asked casually.

Alastor chuckled, lifting his eyes up from the book you’d put in his hands when it seemed he was only going to sit tensely in the living room during/after your Thanksgiving feast. There was a small turkey, a large bowl of mashed potatoes, steamed vegetables, stuffing, gravy, pickle-bacon rolls via Chrys, along with a chocolate pudding pie, and you’d used heavy rubber gloves to bake Alastor a small cake using the spicy chocolate in place of the cocoa powder.

“Not particularly,” he offered after a moment.

“You don’t have to worry about any prayers or church songs when you check in for Christmas with our folks,” Chrys assured him with a wave of her wrist, absently spooning another bit of jam into her half-torn bread roll. “We’re an open religion family, the only real die-hard Christan Bible Thumpers are Nana’s sisters and respective broods, and god-willing you’ll never have to meet them. They like to pretend they’re saints but they're _awful_ and will give you the _worst_ incorrect bible quotes and preachings while being stuck in the damn fifties.”

“Chrys,” you warned, seeing her frustration and tossing your hair over your shoulder, you were pleasantly full and waiting for it to settle so you could dart in for some pie. “Don’t worry him. And don’t jinx it.”

“I’m not gonna jinx it,” Chrys rolled her eyes, slouching back along the couch and turning her eyes to the television where The French adaptation of the Beauty and the Beast movie was playing. “God, can you imagine having an elf-puppy like that? They _climb_ -! It’s so cute-!”

“They’re called Tadums,” you corrected her with a mellow sigh, giving Alastor a subtle smile, “Seeing as I’m the only one who needs to read the subtitles.. I would have thought you’d pay more attention..”

“I was distracted by the Grimm fairytale vibes,” Chrys sniffed.

“A likely story.”

Alastor felt his smile growing fond, watching the twins bicker back and forth, the novel all but forgotten in his lap as he lay back in his chair.

A piercing chime cut the air, and it was followed swiftly by a cut-off version of a pop song. Both girls hurried to whip out their phones, and they were only able to look at the screens for a few seconds before Wisteria had taken a pillow and _slammed_ it into Chrys’s face.

“ _You fucking jinxed it-!”_

* * *

**Shorter chapter BUT-**

**I need everyone interested to send in their Questions, Comments and (Reasonable) Requests Soon-! I'll have a larger update, next Friday, but for this one it's just a touch of Fluff to tide you over.**

**PLEASE provide the name of the Character or person(Me) who you are asking before writing down your piece, and for the record-**

**Because I've been asked-**

**This is set in the timeline BEFORE Hazbin Hotel starts. I have it in my head that the Cleanse is Once a Year on New Years, so I put it in my mental banks as the Beginning of 2020.**

**Because let's face it.**

**This year has pretty much been a rolling snowball of problems and clusterf*cks.**

**So the fic is based in 2018.**

**That gives us 2(in fic) years of content before Hell is mentioned.**

**I'll answer questions about that if they are specifically ASKED ABOUT for the special.**

**Not before.**

**Not after.**

**This is your opportunity to ask the most ridiculous things, as many times as you like.**

**SIEZE THE OPPORTUNITY, I BEG YOU-!**

**I want to make this fun, and I have about 10 or so asks to use, while my goal is around 25 or more. I want this to be hilarious and fun, weird and eye-catching. Even if it's a stupid question, PLEASE, I want to answer it, and so does the Crew-!**

**I leave you with kind regards, and plenty of platinum-plated bullets.**

**-Pistol Out**


	23. Red Flower Farewell

His paramour was crying in the corner of the couch and Alastor could do nothing but wrap his arms around her and hold her close.

It wasn’t sad crying, she’d assured him only seconds before the waterworks had shaken her into a fit of heart-wrenching  _ sobs _ . It was relief and a healthy dose of the reality of mortality.

The red-haired twin was pacing in the dining room on the phone, hurried, clipped words exchanged with their cousin “Reece” and more than a few screams being tossed back and forth in their combined fury.

“Hushh-shh-shh,” he whispered, pressing his lips to his darling’s forehead and gently combing his fingers through her hair. “Hush.. I’m here.. Everything is alright..”

“They could have  _ died _ ..”

He hummed in confirmation, tugging her closer until she was curled up onto his lap so he could bury his face into her hair and guide her cheek to his chest to listen to his slow, heavy heartbeat, pumping demon’s thick blackish-red blood through each and every vein..

* * *

“Don’t force yourself,” he murmured, fingers tightening within the thick of your hair and his shirt absorbing most of the gasp that fell from your raw-bitten lips. “Your sister’s been told that everyone is fine.. Your grandfather has only a burn on his nondominant arm.. He seemed to have tried to put out the fire before declaring it a lost cause at your grandmother’s insistence, and while the house is nearly gone, there’s no one else injured.”

“..Do they know what happened?”

Your rasped question caused Alastor’s head to tick to the side as he eavesdropped again into Chrys’s conversation, picking apart what he could for the better part of three minutes before saying, “Your grandmother’s sisters and subsequent daughters decided to cook the meal the night of, and your grandfather had smelled something off and went to check, only to find a quarter of the kitchen in flames.. It was half burned by the time he found the fire extinguisher but it was far from up-to-date and caused more of a hindrance than a help..”

“Okay..” your whisper was harsh even to your own ears, and you took the initiative to calm yourself down by counting out the heavy, thudding beats of his heart.

_ Demons had hearts.. It was both funny and reassuring.. _

Chrys came back into the living room almost ten minutes and two shouting matches later, huffing and puffing like a bull and collapsing into the end of the couch. She did a minor double-take at the sight of you curled up on Alastor’s lap, but if she had an opinion on it, she blissfully kept it to herself.

“Reece said Gramps was taken to the emergency room and would be home tomorrow because of the back-up of holiday-mischief morons,” the redhead spoke in a slow, patient voice as she pressed two fingers to her pulse and began trying to calm her blood pressure and heart rate. “Nana was ‘upset’ with her sisters, but they’re trying to make it off like it’s not their fault. Nana’s oldest is going to live with the second eldest, that is, Margaret is moving in with Annabelle. And because Annabelle has been housing Brooke and Ben and their lot of  _ six _ , there’s been talk about having the house renovated for more room..

“Brooke is a nightmare,” Chrys explained when Alastor’s eyes had fallen upon her in her frustration. “She’s been married three times and she lives far above her means.. When Christmas rolls around, she’s going to demand that she spends it with whoever has the most money to gift out presents.. Without the entitled wording, of course.. And because Margaret, who  _ housed that portion of the family’s holidays _ , is going to be spending a  _ lot _ of money on a new house with more room and better amenities, she’s not going to come  _ close _ to the standard Brooke is going to want for her children _.. _ We have a  _ lot _ of family, Al, and I wouldn’t begrudge you if you didn’t want to come to Christmas for the simple fact that it will be over fifty people.. That’s assuming and predicting that Nana’s older sisters are going to bully her into hosting Christmas.. Both Nana and Gramps are from old money, but Nana’s family pretends that their personal success has driven them this far in life.. They feel entitled to everything she accomplishes and makes of herself because they ‘raised her’ which is bull and ‘sacrificed so much to her’ as a child, which is also bull.. It’s a lot of family drama that I  _ really _ don’t want you to experience because it might just make you want to avoid everyone altogether..”

Alastor nodded slowly, adjusting his grip around you when your face buried deeper into his shirt and your sniffles had turned nearly silent as you gradually calmed.

“I can handle a few zealots,” he assured her, his neutral smile faintly reassuring as he gave your twin a more firm nod of his head. “Family is important for her.. And what kind of fella would I be if I skimped off when she truly needed me..”

“Your comfort is more important than my family drama,” your muffled denial was only answered with the arms around you tightening to a warning grip. It was far from threatening, but it was enough to tell you to shut up and that you were being foolish.

“Nonsense,” he scoffed, burying his face into your hair when you shifted to sit up. “Your drama is my drama, darling.. The least we can do is make it entertaining together..”

You leaned back, meeting his eyes with something very mixed in your expression that had him nervous.

Your hands lifted up and cupped his face, and before he could register the situation you had slanted your mouth over his and got to your knees around his hips, bowing forward as he leaned back into the couch and submitted almost instantly to the insistent caress of your mouth.

Your kiss was thorough and firm, and you buried your fingers into his hair before pulling back to breathe, keeping his head tilted to meet your eyes directly.

“I love you.”

He hummed, pulling you forward to press a kiss to your forehead and bury his face into your hair again. He was becoming unreasonably addicted to the sweet scent of berries you’d been using for your new shampoo.

“ _ Vous êtes tous les deux dégoûtants. Je suis assis juste ici _ .…” ***You two are disgusting. I'm sitting right here.**

Chrys’s disgusted tone brought your attention back to the present, and you shot her a confused look as Alastor laughed brightly, and replied with a whiplash quick  _ “Peut-être devrais-tu quitter la pièce..” _ **_**Maybe you should leave the room.._ **

“Still can’t understand French,” you sang in a mildly playful, but mostly pouty tone, “Just you two wait, I’m going to have  _ so _ many secret conversations with Reece and CJ.”

“Speaking of secret conversations,” Chrys purred, flickering her fingers up to cradle her chin and eye Alastor with renewed interest. “Your boyfriend is going to need to learn sign language if he’s going to survive the first night..  _ Especially _ if Margaret talks Nana into opening the house up for Christmas Hols...”

_ Oh.. fuck.. _

* * *

Christmas shopping had always been something done with your sister, and you were hardly going to break tradition now. Bundled up in fall-time jackets and with a white beanie pulled over the top of your head, you drove with Chrys to the nearest mall, promising Al that you would be back around ten or so. He’d assured you that he could fend for himself, he had plenty in the fridge and he’d wanted to explore Netflix some more. Chrys had recently gotten into the  _ Hannibal _ fandom, and after listening to the woman gush about it for four hours over so many days, Alastor had admitted that his curiosity had been piqued.

So leaving him with the remote and a kiss to his cheek, you took your sister out of the house to shop.

“Uncle Justin said he was buying Aunt Franky a new jewelry set,” Chrys was spouting off the notes she’d kept on her phone for this specific purpose each year. “Reece is going to give CJ a full set of Manga manuals. Skit is getting a new sewing machine and some fabric from the folks.. Aurora’s getting a trip to Canada for her and her friends.. Jasmine is getting a VR station added to her room, Belle is..”  _ On and on.. _

Your thoughts were stuck on Al. Sure you’d already bought and sent about forty different shirts to Nana for (yet-unknown-to-Al)undisclosed purposes, and  _ yeah _ the  _ fucking sweater _ was mid-knit and on its way to being done(sized to his demon form, of course) but you wanted to spoil him. You wanted to shower him in gifts and affection and swaddle him in the softest fabrics and feed him the richest foods.

He was precious to you. He was  _ yours _ , as you were  _ his _ . There was rapidly becoming very,  _ very _ little you wouldn’t do for him should he only ask it of you, and while that would scare a normal person to the core at such a  _ drastic _ feeling of surety, it only gave you a mild sense of unease. It  _ should _ be strange that seven months, five and a half in person, would be enough to completely recenter someone’s universe around someone else.

It should feel  _ wrong _ to be content to let your boyfriend occasionally go out  _ hunting _ and come back with suspiciously shaped packages for the deepfreeze. Ninety percent of them were labelled with tiny little dot stickers you’d offered after several instances of pulling things out for dinner and seeing the startled panic on his face as he rushed to switch them out for similar-shaped packages.

Hence the neon orange dot stickers now marking up a good three quarters of your deep freeze.

You’d argue with yourself that you didn’t care, and for valid reasons. He swore to you,  _ and you knew he kept his word, he wasn’t  _ that _ good at lying to your face, _ that he didn’t cook  _ those _ for you and he got the meat that he alone ate from “places” you weren’t opposed to.

The pedophile from Halloween was one glaring example. You had no sympathy whatsoever for that, and you were wholeheartedly okay with it, so long as it was warranted. You were also unfortunately aware of how fucked-up the system was and that a good portion of the time, someone else was screwing someone  _ else _ over for false claims and petty shit.  _ Your mother had been one of the women to snatch the veil from over your eyes, for so long she skated the law with her own twin, ruining lives left and right- _

So, the compromise had been  _ extended hunting trips. _ He would have to provide evidence of their misdeeds for you, something he had acquisited to after you’d expressed your unease, taking a simple, small digital camera anyone can buy at Walmart to provide the incriminating information.  _ Chester was capable of getting into some pretty sketchy places undetected. _

“Are you even listening?”

Your attention snapped back to the present, and you looked down with a start at the sweater in your hands, the expression on your sister’s face borderline deadpan as she looked away from the shoes she was holding up with two hooked fingers. “Look, if you don’t wanna hear me talk, just say so. You’ve been zoned out for a while, now that I’m noticing.”

You blinked quickly, taking in the department store of the mall’s scuffed floors of tracked-in dirt and the harsh fluorescent lighting above your heads.

“I’m.. fine,” you offered, finding no way to rationally explain your thoughts without being immediately arrested or thrown into a padded room. “Can I ask you something?”

Chrys lowered the shoes to the display table, turning her head to look you up and down as you put the sweater back onto the rack. “Depends.”

“Is..” the words seemed heavy on your tongue and you had a hard time rationalizing with  _ yourself _ about asking your twin. But you needed confirmation. You needed to know  _ this _ wasn’t wrong about you,  _ too _ .

“Is it normal to feel so  _ consumed _ by a person that you want to return the feeling?”

If your sister was at all surprised by the question, she didn’t show it, lips pursing into her usual, thoughtful-looking pout and her crimson-dyed eyebrows lowering over her eyes as she thought deeply about your question.

“This is about Alastor?”

You nodded.

She tilted her head, putting the shoes down entirely and propping her hands on her hips so she could lean her head back and squint at the fluorescent lights.

“Well.. wanting to be close to someone is pretty normal,” she offered, shrugging one shoulder and putting the shoes back after a second glance, deciding not to buy them and moving on after linking your arms together to drag you in-step to browse. “Wanting them to be close to  _ you _ is pretty normal, too. I know you feel things differently than other people, so I can’t  _ completely _ rule out the possibility that it might not be healthy.. But from what I’ve seen, I think you’re good for each other.”

And that was the crux of it, wasn’t it?

You had been worried that what you felt,  _ for a demon _ , had been a little too much for so short of time.

Hearing your sister, one of only two handfuls of people you would trust with your very life, tell you that you were making good choices..?

_ It felt like a burning, warming mixture of relief and affection. _

“I love you, ya’ know?”

Your murmured declaration caught her off guard, and she lifted her eyebrows up on her head and replied, point blank and reflexively, “Bitch, you better.”

You shared a look between the two of you, then burst into a giggle fit, snorts and gasps intermingling with nudging shoulders and touched foreheads as you clung close.

_ You had really missed your sister. _

* * *

You would be picking up one of the many things you’d bought for Al after your sister left, but before you’d need to leave for your meeting with Terrance, your legal representative for  _ SapphireEdge _ . Your baby was living, digitally breathing proof of your talent and drive and you were ready to go head-first into that meeting with Google with your chin up and your shoulders squared.

Thinking back on the staggering  _ number _ of little things you’d bought mostly on-whim for your lover made your ears burn and your sister cackle but she promised she’d understood and also promised to help distract him so you could wrap them and hide them in the office in peace.

The office mention made her shiver, and you bit back a smile.

“I’ll take him out shopping, too, if you’d like,” she offered, off-hand and making you immediately weary as she shovelled a cup full of strawberries into your blender, along with twelve scoops of icecream and a cut-up bar of chocolate. The grinding sound it made making the two of your drinks had you shuddering but you waited patiently for her to finish and start pouring before asking, “Why?”

“You are a terrible person to shop for,” Chrys stated, as if it were very obvious and very ridiculous that you did not know this, yourself. “One of the worst. You would literally take a pack of gum as a present and be grateful, but I’m not blind and I can tell he wants to impress you. So I want to go with him and help him out.”

You made a mental note to slip a handful or two of hundreds into his back pocket before he left for the outing and outwardly nodded to your sister, slow but understanding.

“It’ll also keep people from hitting on him,” Chrys offered, casually whipping out the can of ready-whip and going to town on top of the tall glass ornaments serving as cups for the two of you. “And I still need to talk to him about, you know, family stuff.”

“Define  _ family stuff _ ,” you cut in, sharp and in blatant warning against her intentionally casual tone.

“He shouldn’t go blind into Christmas,” Chrys reminded you with a turn on her heel and her hands now poised sternly on her hips. “I understand that you don’t  _ feel _ it, but that two-thirds-and-a-quarter portion of the family is  _ scary _ . He deserves every head’s-up we can give him.” She turned back to the glasses to put cherries on top of the ridiculous spiral-towers of white fluff. “Plus, I need to gauge out how well he’ll be susceptible for family trips.. Gramps and Nana are strict about the significant-others-included thing and you two are pretty fuckin’ significant to each other, I’d say.”

You were flushing again, feeling the absolute  _ affection _ for your family clogging your throat and mashing against your love for Alastor, twisting and mixing and bringing honest-to-God  _ tears _ to your eyes.

“..Thanks,” you whispered.

Chrys saw the tears, didn’t comment, and shoved the glass into your hands, loudly going into a rant about how Hannibal was a fuckin’  _ dumbass _ and Will Graham needed every fuckin’ hug on the planet because those two were  _ doomed _ .

* * *

Chrys took Alastor shopping, and you’d taken the liberty of tucking a full wallet into his back pocket before they’d gone out, disguising the move as feeling his ass up as he kissed you goodbye. The squeak he made had you grinning, and Chrys cursing in French as she shielded her eyes and marched for the car. 

When they’d gotten back, Chrys looking smug and Alastor looking torn between being amused and being exhausted, you kissed him again to welcome him home and promised to stay upstairs to let the two sort everything out together.

You stayed in your office until Chrys knocked, and went downstairs to help cook dinner.

Two more days followed of binge-streaming Hannibal and screaming at the television about inconsiderate,  _ ignorant _ fuckers who can’t recognize their own damn feelings.

And getting stabby for it.

_ Fuckin’ Hannibal _ .

Finally, it was time to send your crimson-haired doppelganger off, and you kissed her cheeks farewell at the airport, watching her roll her neon-purple luggage past the gates and into the thick of the building. Alastor stood beside you at the floor-to-ceiling windows, taking everything in with his arms around you from behind and watching intently as the plane was set to take off just forty minutes later.

You waved at it long after it was gone, leaning back into his embrace with a long, sullen sigh and a mild tension headache.

“Ready to go home, my dear?” He murmured the words into your hair, and you nuzzled back against his chin and cheek before tilting your head to meet his eyes and nod.

“Let’s go home.”

* * *

**Thank you to everyone who submitted their Asks for the Q &A-! There's no _set_ date on when it will be provided, but I'm leaning heavily between Christmas and New Year's.**

**There will be an _extra_ chapter posted on the 24th of this month with the reason why provided, so you have that to look forward to.**

**Shoot me your love, comments, and otherwise unrelated questions into that pretty box below and I'll get back to you as soon as I'm able-!**

**Validation keeps me running, it's sad but it's true.**

**Have a good morning-noon-night,**

**-Pistol Out**


	24. Crawfish from Oglethorpe

“This.. is a lot more complicated than I imagined,” Alastor murmured, working his fingers slowly through the gestures indicated on the laptop. He was  _ slowly _ beginning to appreciate the technological advancement of it, especially when so many recipes, articles and research opportunities were at the tips of his claws.

“You’re doing great, sweetie,” you assured him, bending over the back of the couch and putting a loud kiss on his cheek. “Skit is gonna be really happy to talk to you.. Remember, if you want me to help you, just say so.”

“You’ve been busy, dear,” he reminded you, looking mildly contrite as he turned his head to eye the deep plum purple pantsuit you were wearing.  _ Far _ from your usual hoodies and jeans. “You’re having another meeting, I take it?”

“It’s the overnight one. I want to have everything finalized by Christmas,” you admit, rolling your shoulders and leaning forward to rest your elbows on the edge of the couch, fingers burying into his hair and carefully massaging at his scalp as he let out a sigh, heavy and relaxed and leaning into your grasp.

You pressed your lips to the back of his head softly, simply breathing in the static-ozone-cologne smell that filled the very air around him.

“I’ll be having dinner with the representatives after the meeting tonight,” you reminded him quietly, “I should be home around noon tomorrow or so.. Should I bring something home for you?”

“We have plenty of leftovers,” he murmured, reaching back his hands to curl into your own hair, pulling you forward until your head was much closer to his shoulder.

His teeth caught on your bottom lip, and your grunt of surprise was quickly swallowed by his mouth, a slick tongue slipping past your lips as you sighed and happily returned his enthusiastic approach of affection.

Ten minutes later, you dragged yourself out of the house, overnight bag in hand, your lip gloss gone and with no will to reapply it. You drove the necessary hour and fifteen minutes to get to the larger city of Fort Oglethorpe (yes, you giggled reading the meeting place on the email) and met your lawyer at the simple hotel you’d discussed.

“Terrance-!” you called, throwing your arms wide for the older man to embrace you back tightly. “Good to see you in person, big guy. How’s Fred doing?”

“Well, actually,” the older man beamed down at you, guiding you into the building with a hand at the small of your back. “He finally got the cast removed, and he should have his full range of movement back by February.”

“That’s great-!” You grinned. “Give him a kiss for me when you see him again?”

“No problem,” he nodded.

* * *

“Allie-!”

Alastor ticked his head to the side as you entered the home, a bag of something heavy in your hands as you grinned at him brightly.

“Guess who brought back fresh crawfish?”

Alastor was on his feet before you could fathom it, pulling at the strap of the bag and peering into its depths with nothing short of childish delight.

“They look wonderful darling-!”

He handed the bag off to Chester with a wave of his hand, but swept you up into his arms in the next moment, spinning you in the air twice before allowing you to be crushed tightly to his chest. “As delightful as the gift is..  _ I much prefer your company.. _ ”

“Oh,  _ swoon _ ,” you murmured, putting the back of your hand to your forehead before giving him a giggle and pecking his cheek. “I missed ya’, too, Allie..”

“You are the  _ only _ creature,  _ alive or dead _ , that will ever be allowed to call me that,” he grumbled, burying his face into your hair and breathing in slowly.

“Good,” you grinned, “Cause it’s  _ my _ pet name for you. I catch anybody else callin’ you that and I’m gonna be throwing hands..”

“You’re adorable,” he chuckled, holding you up by the armpits now and moving you outward to look from your half-assed mess of curly blue hair, down your pale blue sweatsuit to the worn sneakers on your feet.

“ _ Like a kitten _ ,” he emphasized, his grin growing when you looked  _ offended _ of all things.

“Hey-!” You complained, kicking your feet with the intention of displacing his grip, no matter how  _ obviously _ that was ridiculously futile. “I am  _ not _ a kitten-! I am a lion-! King of the Jungle-! Rawr-!”

You made awkward clawing motions with your hands, and Alastor was silent all of three seconds before he was breaking down in laughter, letting you stand on your own two feet only so he could grip his sides and attempt to  _ not _ fall over in his fit. The laughter was  _ loud _ and seemed to fill the entire home.

“Alastor-! Take it back-!” You insisted.

“I can’t  _ breathe _ ,” he wheezed, slowly sinking to his knees as he buried his face in his hands, static almost overtaking the volume of his words, “ _ It’s too much..” _

“Damnit, Allie-! I am not a kitten-!”

“I beg to differ,” he cackled.

“Then  _ beg. _ ”

Alastor fell silent sharply, and you smacked a hand to your mouth in shock.

_ Oh shit.. _

“That was a meme,” you assured him, seeing the way his eyes were locked on your face, a spike of adrenaline and arousal twisting together with uncertainty deep within your stomach, “I would never  _ actually _ order you to beg..” You were inching away slowly as he got to his feet, his smile ever-present but  _ sharp _ and your lack-of-fear response wondering if it meant food or sex because-  _ he looked like he was about to take a bite- _ “You know that..” you laughed awkwardly, inching backward a tad faster when he made it to his feet and began to take slow strides forward. “..Right..?”

“ _ Kitten.. _ ” he purred.

You gulped, not even capable of telling him off as you felt your thigh bump into the arm of the couch and your entire body  _ shiver _ .

_ “Run.” _

Your ass  _ booked it _ for the balcony door.

You were panting by the time you made it to the tree line, giggles falling past your lips as you heard the door open with a tell-tale  _ thwack _ before you were into the woods and running full sprint.

You could hear a scratching record song, something you couldn't name with a lot of suspense and reaching towards a sharp crescendo.

Your boots carried you through the path you’d travelled over so many summers growing up.

Leaping over logs, you glanced back only twice, squealing in a mixture of excitement and  _ startled shock because fuck he was gaining- _ you turned forward again just to swerve around a tree, sliding down a short ledge with your sneakers and feeling the urge to  _ duck _ just as a pair of red-clad arms flickered in the corner of your eye.

You hit the ground with a roll as Alastor leapt over you, his feet leaving deep grooves in the ground as he slid ten feet past you, turned back and  _ pounced. _

Your laughter filled the air as you were wrestled into the leafy, crunchy forest floor. You could feel it getting into your hair and clothes and you were laughing as you tried to keep your wrists out of his hold.

Unfortunately, he was in prime position to sit on your thighs and force your arms above your head.

Your giggles refused to subside, and you squinted as you looked up at your paramour, ashen skin soft in the light of the late morning, red hair shifting with each minute twitch of an ear and the almost ever-present breeze of autumn air.

He finally managed to pin your arms up, and you took great care to take stock and catch your breath, chest heaving with the short chase and your attention solely on the man above you and his burning  _ red, red eyes _ ...

_ "M _ _ on ciel étoilé _ ..” *****

You hummed, a half-huff sound that was betrayed by your adoring smile.

You  _ still _ didn’t know French.

He bent down, tracing his lips from your temples, side to side, down the side of your face and dipping to the curve of your neck.

You let out a soft breath as he began kissing at the skin, soft sucks accompanying every other touch and his tongue brushing at your pulse with every shift of his neck.

You shuddered from head to toe, feeling the fine hairs on the back of your neck stand on end and your thighs tense beneath his considerable weight.

You swallowed thickly as he began to suck harder, the flash of sharp teeth brushing against your soft skin causing more miniscule shudders to wrack your frame.

“Al..” you murmured in mild warning. “I just got home.. I don’t want to have to lock myself in my room..”

He chuckled, a dark thing that gave you the impression of melted chocolate and a hint of spice. Accompanied with a particularly harsh suck on your soft spot, you yelped a startled note and struggled to free your hands to retaliate.

No dice.

“Be still, darling,” he whispered, the words nearly muffled completely by the skin of your neck.

You huffed, toes curling within your shoes and your thighs pressing tightly together as he settled above you, lips returning to their sporadic, but melodic tracing along your throat, slowly dipping lower and lower into the collar of your hoodie.

You felt another flash of teeth, and you couldn’t bite back your whimper, fingers digging into the leather of his gloves as you struggled to stay still, as instructed.

_ He was making it difficult. _

You swallowed back a sharp retort about how he would be acting if the positions were reversed, but before you could open your mouth, his grip shifted from both hands holding yours down to just a shadow keeping you secured as his hands slowly traced down the sides of your arms. His long, elegant pianist fingers burned trails of fire through the fabric of your clothes, searing into your skin and bringing your breath to a heavy cadence. They paused at your ribs, fingertips shifting from heavy and feeling to feather-light and curious as he slowly,  _ hesitantly _ traced his fingers around the gentle mounds upon the arch of your chest.

You held perfectly still as he worked through his careful exploration, fingertips tracing beneath and around the curves of your breasts.

His fingers traced  _ down, down _ and settled at the hem of your blouse, the clawed tips catching at the edge before slipping beneath it. The whispered scrape of claw to your skin had goosebumps breaking across your entire body, and you bit back another comment about the situation and simply settled in to watch.

_ Let him explore, _ you thought with a faint air of curious pride,  _ It’s not like he's done anything like this before.. _

It was as much of a rush as it was incredibly sad. Even  _ you _ , who had trouble making connections with your impulsive decisions and lack of consequential care had had more sexual experience than the Great Alastor, Demon from Hell.

_ Hmph. _

* * *

The shirt was shifted up, and Alastor looked up toward the face of his current  _ prey _ , tanned cheeks speckled with even more tan freckles and eyes glittering behind the falsity of golden contacts. 

Lush blue hair spread out around her head like a waterfall of silk, and he paused his exploration to bring a hand to the column of her throat, running his remarkably red claws down the skin there in a faint test of give. The muscle fluttered beneath his grip in rhythm with her heart, but her expression remained unchanged, and her eyes stayed focused on his face.

_ Beautiful.. _

His hands returned to the fabric of her blouse, and while he could hear his mother in the back of his mind threatening him with her slipper for leaving a lady trussed up on the ground, he couldn’t  _ help himself.. _

Thumbs circled the soft flesh of her torso, and he slowly, gently eased the blouse up to expose the firm stretch of her stomach. The slightest give to the well-fed posture betrayed the amount he’d been feeding her, and he felt, in a distant, primal part of him, that he wanted to feel  _ more _ of her stomach. It was no secret between them that they enjoyed cooking together, enjoyed sharing recipes and asking for reviews..

_ He wanted to feed her more.. _

He shook off the thought before the notion could give him ideas, the faint image of tying her to a bed to spoon-feed her giving him a harsh shudder all throughout his body.

His ears twitched with the  _ strain _ of calming down, and he instinctively sunk down into the form of his darling to hide his face.

_ Which brought his lips to the object of his introspection.. _

_ Her stomach.. _

At first, he did little more than drag his cheek along the soft skin, lips feeling the dip of her belly button and his eyes shut against the faint light of sun flickering through the tree line.

_ So soft.. _

_ So.. warm.. _

* * *

_ Did he just..? _

You looked down, incredulous, at the mound of blood-red fluff piled high on your stomach, the slow, steady puff of hot air against your skin unchanging with the clear of your throat.

_ He fucking fell asleep.. Unbelievable.. _

Letting out a sigh, you let your head fall back to the ground and resigned yourself to playing pillow for an hour or two, absently threading your fingers into his hair and softly combing your digits through the strands.

_ Might as well enjoy the cuddles.. _

* * *

You muttered to yourself as you looked at the phone, face set in a grimace as your grandmother worked to get all of the connections linked. Your Grandpa was sitting beside her, holding one of his protein shakes with an expression of ease on his face. Out of the two of them, he was the more tech savvy, but he would never deny his beloved wife the opportunity to work the computer herself. Currently, she was working on bringing all of your cousins, Aunt, Uncle and your sister into a singular virtual meeting, kind of like Skype, but made by you in middle school when you got irritated with the screen resolutions and sound feedback.

You’d affectionately named the program  _ Oracle _ , which was due to a coexisting obsession with the third Aladdin movie.

What pissed you off was the  _ extra crowd _ being linked in, too.

“Alright,” fifteen minutes later and you inwardly sighed in relief. You loved your Nana, you  _ loved her to pieces _ , but you had no patience with technology and your  _ Gramps knew this. _ “I think I’ve got this-!” Nana exclaimed, clicking the  _ Connect _ button at your gesture and  _ beaming _ when the boxes around her main screen lit up showing images of other waiting family members.

_ More than you either wanted or could stand, really. _

“Everyone’s connected-!” Nana clapped her hands in excitement, and her sisters were already speaking, only to be silenced as Gramps slammed his now-empty cup on the table and shut them up.

“Alright-! ‘Cuz I know this program isn’t gonna handle everyone’ yappin’ at once.. Here’s what we’re gonna do.” He put an arm around his wife’s shoulder, and you felt the soft touch of a hand before Alastor was mirroring the gesture around yours, leaning forward slightly with curiosity as your Gramps pulled out the top hat the family had been using for it’s raffles and decisions since 2015. You remembered Reece had bought the thing at a garage sale and given it to CJ for her budding Magic career before it had ended with a sprained ankle in her junior year of highschool. She’d given it to the family to use after the epic fail and it served the family faithfully for three years and would probably serve the family well for the rest of time itself if it stayed as pristine as your Grandfather tended to keep things.

“We all have a scrap of paper with names written on ‘em,” he informed the  _ extended _ family sternly. Your part of the family already knew this and were watching with just as much well-hidden aggravation as you and Chrys. You could see Nana signing the words as he spoke, as well as the annoyed expressions of the new family for the ‘secret’ conversation, though you knew they wouldn’t  _ dare _ argue with Gramps in the frame with Nana. “Lenny here is gonna draw a name and send a message to you with the name you’re picked for from the gift exchange list.. You don’t go over fifty dollars, and you don’t bring anything that’s not age appropriate for little eyes at the gathering. If you want to get something as a cheap gag gift for the public gift opening and give them their real gift later, fine, but keep it PG for boxing day.. Now..” He visibly softened as he looked to his wife, and you unconsciously leaned into Alastor’s side as your Nana, with all the grace of a blushing schoolgirl, dipped her thin wrist into the hat to fish out the first paper.

“First name.. Chase Baker..”

For twenty minutes, your family sat in quiet as names were called, you got a text on your phone after the main event was over, and your Gramps started talking to the eldest ladies about housing accommodations for the holiday. You muted your mic earlier in preparations of any tantrums you might feel the need to bitch about.

“Allie, you’ll be picking something out for.. Uncle Justin.. Way to go, you got a good person to pick for, he’s really into jazz music..”

Alastor hummed, burying his chin into your hair as he looked down at the message on your phone. You’d be buying for Brooke( _ yak _ -!) so you’d likely be spending every penny of that fifty on makeup or some sort of luxury equivalent.

_ You’d already planned on making your dinner announcement as a chance to dig into her posh entitlement. Just a little.. _

“What do you mean we can’t stay in our own rooms-?!”

Brooke’s screeching voice grated on your ears, and you winced into Allie’s chest just a second before his grip tightened around your torso.

“Brooke, sweetie, there’s far too many people staying over for that to work, there are too many couples who need privacy so Mikey and I thought it would be best for children to stay with their parents. There’s plenty of space in the rooms for air mattresses and we’ve enough spare sheets to house the army.” Nana tried to defuse the situation with her honest disappointment, and you felt your core  _ burning, burning _ with the indignation that this woman  _ dare _ try to make your Nana feel bad-

“ _ Calm, dear _ ,” Alastor murmured softly.

“I have  _ six kids _ , four of which are teenagers-!”

You so  _ badly _ wanted to ask why she didn’t stop at two before you realized that  _ no _ , these children are  _ not _ responsible for the toxicity of their mother, and  _ no _ , you did not feel right to say something in earshot of them like that.

_ Being alone in the woods with your demon boyfriend was really doing wonders on your patience for morons. _

“Be that as it may,” Nana tried again, seeing the discomfort on her grandbaby’s faces and feeling bad even as she signed it, “The girls are already giving up their spaces to stay together.. There’s not much I can do but suggest a nice hotel.. The house is large, but there are a lot of people visiting..”

“Either suck it up and deal with the space or rent a room at a hotel,” Gramps sighed, reaching out to put a hand on Nana’s wrist and visibly calming her down. “We live in a larger house, but we’re by no means a hotel. Adding onto what we just said- you will be pitching in if you’re staying. This is  _ our home _ , not the Ritz. We don’t do your laundry. We don’t wash your dishes. We don’t clean up after your kids. We have our own rascals to watch and look after and we’re not responsible for yours. This may be a holiday but it is  _ not _ a vacation from being a parent,” Gramps’ sharp words brought a smile to your lips as the majority of Margaret and Annabelle’s broods began silently scowling to themselves.

_ No one has the balls to fuck with Gramps. _

_ He’s so cool.. _

“Now, if that’s everything..?” Gramps looked over the screen, nodded, and reached forward to turn off the monitor. “Talk to you later, bye.”

Short, quipped and to the point.

_ And people wonder where your abrasiveness came from. _

“I love my gramps,” you grinned, reaching forward to close your own laptop before turning in your seat to straddle Alastor’s lap. He was still in his  _ humansona _ so you reached up to pinch at his plush cheeks and softly trace along his lips.

“He’s a very imposing figure,” Alastor admit, having not seen someone quite that well-toned since his days as a human, watching the factory workers walk to and fro past the radio station from his window view.

Your Grandfather could have passed as a bodybuilder, his legs and arms thick with corded muscles and his torso still just as sculpted as it had been back when he’d been in the Marines. He kept his face well groomed, despite his out-of-style goatee, and always slicked back his thick silverfox hair when the mood struck him to cook in the kitchen.

On the opposite side of the spectrum, your Nana was a petite woman with slim shoulders, willowy limbs and short, curly hair. Truly the runt of her family litter compared to the taller, wider ladies that proclaimed themselves her  _ sisters. _

“I see where you get your charm,” he chuckled, feeling the tips of your fingers leave trails of tingling fire behind as you mapped out the features of his human façade.

“We should look into buying gifts soon,” you murmured, pressing your lips to his just a breath before and leading him into a slow kiss. His hands settled comfortably on your hips as you lead it, coaxing out soft, content sighs every now and again with a gentle smile. “Usually the name drawing is done on Thanksgiving, but because of everything, well.. Now we’ve got a little less than a month to prep for it..”

“We’ll be fine, dear,” he assured you, finger reaching up to push the hair in your face back behind your ear. His smile turned a tad sharp, “And if you’d like anything to happen to prevent your unfortunate relatives from attending-”

You were laughing before he’d even finished, tucking your face into his neck and holding him close so you could pepper his skin with soft kisses.

“Allie.. No.. They’re  _ bad _ , but not  _ that _ bad..”

“Well, the option is available if you change your mind.”

His tone was  _ far _ too innocent for the implication.

You sat up, kissed the tip of his nose and flashed him a grin. “Let’s go shopping.”

He picked you up without delay, you let out a startled giggle as he moved to bring you to the coat closet near the stairwell.

“Allie, I can put on a scarf myself..”

“Yes, but I like making sure you’re all bundled up,” he pointed out cheerfully, already drawing out a ridiculously large and fluffy grey scarf that he immediately began winding around your shoulders and neck and face.

He kissed the tip of your nose in retaliation to your earlier peck, and you knew that this was it.

There would be no one after him.

* * *

“I’d say we’d take a plane to get there and rent a cab, but it would cost just as much just to drive, and I don’t feel like renting a car just to use it once or twice and possibly pay a fortune for someone “accidently” scratching the poor thing,” you muttered, stretched out across your bed as you dug through one of the drawers that slid beneath it. Alastor was listening intently on the floor a few feet away, dutifully folding each of the garments you threw to him by hand.

Well, you threw them to Chester, who handed them to Alastor to fold and pack.

“Smart decision,” Alastor agreed absently, taking great care to place everything neatly, despite you assuring him that it would just jostle and mash together in the car ride. He would assure it didn’t with a bit of magic, but  _ you _ didn’t know that, now did you?

“Will you be comfortable sitting in a car with me for twelve plus hours..? That’s not including rest stops and food, hun..”

“I’ll be  _ fine _ , dear,” he rolled his eyes, reaching out a ridiculously long arm to pinch your cheek, “I’ll be with  _ you _ after all..”

You flushed a deep pink at the sickly-sweet tone he’d said it in, very much aware that he was  _ completely serious _ .

_ Sometimes his sweetness was enough to make you want to roll around the ground and squeal like a child. _

You grumbled something unintelligible and returned to your digging, tossing two more pairs of thick winter socks to Chester before rolling over to get to your feet and digging into your closet.

Most of your cold-weather clothes had been stuffed deep, so you’d likely be digging through it for a minute.

A call on your cell distracted you as you were elbow-deep in knit dresses and cashmere, forcibly extracting yourself from the depths of your closet to give Chester a sweet pet on the head for fetching the phone without asking.

“Yellow,” you answered the call without much of a pause. By the ringtone, it was either Johnny, the man you hired for the security of your software “warehouse” which was more a rented building with two secured floors and a downstairs lobby area with meeting rooms for discussions, or Terrance, your lawyer, who was handling the contract with Google.

“ _ I need you to be sitting.. _ ” Terrance sounded strained, which was a bit of a concern for you as you completely pulled yourself out of the closet to settle on the floor next to Alastor. He was obviously listening in, but made no move to comment as you gave an affirmative huff.

“Okay.. I’m sitting..”

_ “They finally signed off on the contract.” _

You felt your heart stutter and beat heavily as you swallowed what was left of your saliva in your suddenly bone-dry mouth.

“And uhh.. How  _ high _ did you manage to push it..?”

_ “You’re sitting?” _

“Yes, I’m sitting, Terrance-! Answer the question-!”

_ “Fifty-Four Billion.” _

You dropped the phone.

You.. you had specified to Terrance that you wanted no less than two million.. He’d taken the initiative to start  _ high _ and..

_ And he’d told you that it usually went waaaay down after first offer but if it was at fifty-four even now- _

“Dear?” Alastor murmured, reaching out and guiding your phone away from your non-responsive fingers. “Darling,  _ breathe _ ..”

You sucked in a sudden breath, let it out slowly, turned on your side and started  _ squealing _ .

Alastor leaned back as you rolled from side to side legs twirling and arms thrashing and wordless cheering coming from your lips as you broke into the  _ loudest _ scream he’d heard from your lips.

He could hear the  _Terrance_ person on the other end of the phone laughing before raising his voice.

“ _ I need you to sign the contract before you head home for the holidays-! Think you can swing by the office tomorrow-?! _ ”

“ _ YESYESYESYESYESYESYES-! _ ”

You were still screaming, now on your feet and jumping up and down after pulling Chester into a hug and leaping with him in a wide circle. Alastor leaned his weight onto his elbow, watching you with fond, amused eyes and no small amount of shock with the number. A  _ hundred _ dollars was a  _ lot _ back then,  _ but fifty-four billion of them..? _

“ _ See you at noon, crazy girl-! We’ll get drinks to celebrate-! Maybe I can finally meet this sweetheart of yours, huh-?” _

You were still jumping and screaming, holding Chester close for a moment before you  _ leapt _ at your boyfriend, sending the both of you sprawling onto the ground before you began kissing at his lips with fervor.

“Mmmh.. Mmh. Mhh,” you continued to press and peck and drag kisses out of Alastor long after your phone had hung up, feeling the electric burn of his hands on your skin and in your hair and holding yourself as close to him as you dared with your fingers curled in the lapels of his jacket.

Finally, you pulled back to breathe, lips bruised and eyes bright and no small amount of mania in your eyes. Alastor had never felt more besotted.

“I’m a billionaire,” you whispered.

“I heard.”

“ _ I am a billionaire. _ ”

“Mhmm..”

“I can pay for my best friends’ college debt,” you whispered, your eyes turning glassy as you looked up at the ceiling, “I can buy Reece and his band a decent tour bus.. I can hire a famous vocal coach for Aurora.. Oh my god,  _ I’m a billionaire.. _ ”

“Mmm..” Alastor combed his claws through your hair, guiding you into falling on top of his chest, cuddled up with your sudden, crushing emotional exhaustion.

“Congratulations, darling.”

“This is so unreal..”

“Well,” he chuckled, “You’ve earned it, sweetheart.”

“No, I mean,” you sat up quickly, suddenly frantic as you gripped his lapels and had him meet your suddenly manic eyes again. “I’m a woman who just turned twenty-three who lives on my own with my demon boyfriend and I just became a billionaire-  _ Like, what the fuck.. The world is so big and I am so small.. _ ”

“Okay, no more introspection for you, today,” Alastor tut, picking you up with ease and bringing you to his own room where he could settle you onto his bed and wrap you in blankets. “There, I’ll whip up some Yakamein, hm? You look like you could use a bit of a pick-me-up..”

“You’re the best, Alastor,” you murmured, collapsing face-first into his pillow and inhaling dramatically before letting out a heavy, exhausted sigh. He pressed a kiss to the back of your head and left to make the food, leaving Chester and a couple Rag-a-Muffins to huddle around you on the bed and keep you focused on the here and now.

_ Gods, you loved your boyfriend. _

* * *

***My starry sky.**

**Let me know what you think of the chapter, I'll do my best to get back to you in the comments section.**

**Also- is anyone else feeling like the year had been on Xanax up until November first before it was suddenly on cocaine?**

**The slow dredges of the year felt distant with that first hit of Destiel and the _shit show_ that was the election ballot fiasco _everywhere (If you're American like me- hang in there- if you're not I envy you your outside view.)_**

**That's all for now, leave a kudos, a comment and a kiss for the Deer.**

**-Pistol Out**


	25. NSFW WARNING-!!!!!!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is the official story change indicator to push it from M RIGHT to E..
> 
> 16+ viewers only, please..
> 
> I would feel bad, otherwise.
> 
> And, you know, major nudity ahead, so brace yourself, I guess..

Sooo...

KadieBlue comes back SWINGING with another AMAZING piece for the growing collection, folks-!

This is **NSFW** so PLEASE be mindful of where you open it-!

I recommend tissues..

You might get a bit of a nosebleed..

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....Whelp.

I'm gonna go mop the blood from my nose..

That's all for now-!

The next chapter update will be on November 20th, around 3 a.m. United States Central Time.

....Bye.

-Pistol Out

* * *

**If you have FANART-!**

**Shoot me a PM, on here or Instagram, preferably-! I'd love to add your work to the growing collection for Radio Roommate-!**

**If you have QUESTIONS-!**

**There's a pretty little box down below here you can use to shoot 'em at me.**

**If you have COMMENTS-!**

**See above instructions.**

_**Stay Tuned...** _


	26. ANOTHER MASTERPIECE

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> No NSFW for this one ;)

kadieBlue is back with another amazing fanart of our Queen Wisteria and our favorite Deer Boi Alastor.

I'm not gonna lie, I squealed when I saw it. I got a lot of looks, but MAN was the picture worth it.

I hope you all get the warm and fuzzies like I did just looking at the goofballs.

Without further ado...

_Proceed to the Fluff-!_

AAAAAAAHHHHHHHH-!

They're just so freakin' adorable- I can't even-

*incoherent squealing*

Please-please-PLEASE show your love and support to kadieBlue here and on her Instagram-! I'll be putting it in the Chapter Notes so you'll see it near mine-!

That's it for today, _as far as I know,_ and don't forget I update every Friday - _i_ _nternet willing_ \- so I'll be posting again in around.. *checks watch* 24 hours.

By for now-!

_Stay Tuned~_

_-Pistol Out._


	27. Home for the Holidays

You sighed sharply as you closed the door on your gas port, slanting a look through the back window to see Alastor’s head, _human of course,_ bobbing to whatever it was he’d slid into the disk reader. You’d burned quite a bit of iTunes into blank disks and went through them with him, giving them the most ridiculous names in some cases.

_The Smell of Jambalaya_

_The Sound of Unlayered Static_

_When You Need to Stop Existing_

_Hell’s Ambiance (Alastor’s Take)_

_Highschool (Your Take)_

It was a ridiculous mishmash of everything, but it worked, so..

“Hey,” you poked your head into the open door, hair spilling over your shoulders and your eyes narrowed at your happy-go-lucky shotgun( _He’d barked laughter the first time he’d heard the term)_ rider. “I’m getting jerky. Want a snack?”

He took a glance at the rest stop, wrinkled his nose at the very _air_ of millennial innovation, but still got out with a nod. You took his hand into yours without pause, squeezing his fingers back when he’d tightened his grip.

You left him to peruse the drink options so you could load up on jerky, grabbing more than a healthy amount of Teriyaki and Original and swiping up a few bags of Ruffles as you passed the stand. You tilted your head to the side as you saw him bent over to reach on the lower shelves, subconsciously licking your lips as your eyes traced the curve of his-

You jolted to a severely straight posture when you heard a chuckle behind you, glancing back to see an older woman closer to your Nana’s age giving you a knowing smile.

You offered her a sheepish grin, turning on your heel when Alastor had made a delighted noise. “Darling-! I’ve found the right brand.. _There were so many options.._ Would you like your’s to be strawberry or lemon flavored today? _”_

You internally whimpered, inwardly thanking the Gods for your adorable, thoughtful boyfriend and valiantly ignoring the chuckle the woman gave before walking off with her bag of gummy bears. _Seven a.m., two hours in, and you were already steaming in embarrassment._

“Lemon, sweetie,” you called, watching visibly _perk up_ when your voice was closer than he’d anticipated and sending you a beaming smile.

_Ah, my eyes~ He’s too bright for this world.._

He nodded sternly, examined the line and plucked out two, one that was original sweet tea and the other that was lemonade-based.

“Let’s check out,” you nodded your chin to the cash register, and the both of you waited patiently before you managed to slide your card into the reader.

“Thirty on gas for pump seven,” you informed the rather young-looking cashier politely, typing in your pin and only slightly surprised at the arm that wound itself around your stomach to palm you close. You glanced up at Alastor’s politely smiling face, directed at the cashier, and absently selected twenty dollars cash back before returning your eyes to the cashier himself.

He looked.. _uncomfortable?_

You glanced down at the arm around you when he’d hurried to work the digital monitor for the gas, seeing the way Alastor’s fingers were curled in the fabric of your tank top and gently settling your own palm over the back of his.

His fingers twitched beneath yours and tightened as the receipt was spit out, and you took it in one hand with the cash back while Alastor swiped up the bags and guided you out beneath his shoulder.

You got _one_ more look from Gummy Bear Lady before you left and forced yourself to think of something else.

“When we get to the house,” you settle on talking to Alastor about the “expectations” and such to be had for the hols. “We’re going to be taking my old room.. The bed isn’t too large, just a full mattress, but it should fit the both of us..”

Alastor hummed, guiding you to the driver’s seat and helping you up to the seat before pressing a kiss to your knuckles.

Your face flushed and you cleared your throat as he walked around to take his own seat again, and you lowered the volume of the radio as you started the car again.

“Anyway.. We’ll be taking my room, and Chrys will be rooming with Aurora in her old room. Skit and Jasmine are sharing, CJ and Belle are sharing, Reece will be sharing a room with his boyfriend Soran and girlfriend Torrie, Soran is the person I told you about the gender dysphoria thing, so even if he looks a little feminine, please be sure you call him a him, okay?”

“Of course,” he murmured, listening intently and watching closely when your fingers clenched around the steering wheel in aggravation.

“It’s a ten bedroom four bathroom house,” you worked through your fury with slow breaths and the reminder that _you were going home, you were going to see Nana and Gramps and the girls and Reece soon-_ “Everybody’s clumping up into five to accomodate _Nana’s family_ in the other five, but be prepared to deal with a lot of guilt tripping. They’re going to squeeze every drop of laziness they’ll be able to get out of this holiday..” Alastor hummed in acknowledgement, so you continued, working through the thoughts as you went as critically as you could manage.

“Okay, so I’m about to _really name drop_ , babe, okay? You don’t _have_ to remember them all, but this is more like a warning label, alright?”

“Yes dear,” he chuckled, reaching out to set a reassuring hand on your shoulder. “I’m listening.. There can’t _truly_ be that many attending a single gathering, can there?”

You shot him an incredulous look, remembered that he had barely glanced at the screen for the virtual announcement and decided to _pop_ that little ignorance bubble before it could either settle or grow.

“Okay, Nana has two older sisters. Annabelle is the middle child, and Margaret is the eldest. Annabelle had four children; Brooke, Hector, Brian and Evan in that order. Brooke has a total of six children, the first two were with her first husband, Samson, but he won’t be coming, however, she got full custody of their two children, Morgan and Genevieve. Her second husband was named Zues, _yes I know, but he’s not coming,_ and she had two children with him as well. Her third child and the eldest of that marriage, Persephone, and Ares, her brother. Her third and current marriage is to a man named Ben, and he _will_ be coming, and they _also_ have two children. But the eldest is from Ben’s previous marriage, where he took full custody. Her name is Susie. The second child is a boy named Chase.”

Alastor looked like a blank loading screen, but you were pushing on, not wanting to say all of this twice.

“Brooke’s the eldest, like I said, but most of her siblings also have children. Hector will be coming with his wife Jannette, but they only have one daughter named Carissa. Then there’s Brian, but he’s kind of a family outcast for being gay, so he’s coming but only because Nana’s sisters don’t want Nana to know that they don’t include him in anything else that requires a plus one. He’s happily married and currently the only _good_ member of that portion of family that I’m acquainted with. His husband’s name is George. They took George’s last name to distance themselves from the family, but Nana’s always been good to him, so he plans to come. Next is Evan and his wife Bethany, and they have four children; three boys named Xavier, Frank, and Titus and a girl named Lorelei.”

Alastor blinked.

“Next there’s _Margaret’s_ brood. Margaret is married to a man named Anthony, but she was married once before to a man named Nathan. She and Nathan had one child named Carson, who will be coming with his wife Maria and their four children Torrie, with two ‘r’s, Michael, Natasha and Brenden, girl boy, girl boy respectively. She has two children with Anthony, their son Tony and their daughter Amelia. Tony is single as far as I know with at least three kids somewhere, but I don’t pay attention or care to know. Amelia has a husband named Derek and _they_ also have four children. Simon their eldest boy, their only girl named Tina, their second son and third child Kory and their youngest Devin.”

You were quiet for a minute, then added, “And I have no idea how many of them are bringing plus ones or how many of the eldest children have children themselves...”

The radio blared and echoed and rang with static for several seconds before Alastor gave you a wide, excited smile.

His eyes, however, were wide and his pupils very, _very_ small.

_He looked terrified. Oh dear.._

“We have three cats if that’s any consolation,” you offered after several seconds of nothing but pure silence.

“ _..That helps..”_

* * *

By the time you parked the car in the extended garage, you were bone tired, all music-ed out and ready for a damn _nap_.

Alastor practically had to carry out of the garage, though you gave an almost inhuman jerk upright when you heard the familiar call of “Wisteria dear, is that you-?”

“ _NANA-!”_

You were out of Alastor’s grasp in a second and bolting through the mudroom door on adrenaline alone.

You swept your mother-figure into a hug, holding her tightly as she settled her chin on your shoulder and hugged you with a surprising amount of strength.

“Welcome home,” she whispered.

Tears pricked the corners of your eyes, and you pressed a kiss to both of her cheeks.

“I’m home, Nana,” you murmured.

She pressed a kiss to your forehead before peering around you, a sort of smile crossing her lips that you’d never been on the receiving end of. Reece had certainly got that smile a couple times.

_The smile of parental knowing.._

“And who might this handsome fella be?” she asked calmly.

You stepped back quickly, turned on your heel, marched over to Alastor, who had been hovering almost _awkwardly_ in the mudroom-to-kitchen doorway and took hold of his hand between both of yours to drag him completely inside.

“Nana,” you turned to the woman with a serious expression, squaring your shoulders, and holding Alastor’s tense form tightly to your side by winding an arm around his waist. “This is Alastor. He is mine.”

If she was put off by the stern introduction and the very _serious_ vibe you were giving off, she didn’t show it.

_She knew you well enough by now._

Walking forward, she held out both of her hands, palms up, and you gently let Alastor go. The demon shot a glance at you, took note of your gentle encouraging nod, and carefully set his hands into the old woman’s. Despite being slender, they were littered with burns similar to his own mother’s, from ovens and small scars likely from knives. He remembered you telling him that she liked to cook and bake just a half a moment before she began speaking, keeping hold of his hands with the lightest amount of pressure possible while still technically _holding_ them.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, dear,” she assured the incredibly tall young man. “I’m very happy you could join us for the holidays.. You’ve made my little Wisp very happy and I can’t thank you enough for that.”

“Your granddaughter is a delight,” he laughed faintly, closing his eyes in his strain and _nerves, lord, why did he have to be nervous,_ “I’m truly lucky to have met her.”

You scoffed behind him, but said nothing.

“Enough of that,” Nana tut, giving his hand the barest squeeze, “You’ll call me Nana if you can, alright? You’re part of the family, now. What do you want to go by, dear? Alastor or Al or something else?”

“Alastor is fine,” he assured her, watching her as she smiled at him in a _motherly, affectionate way- she was so similar to his own mother- he needed to focus._

She let his hands go and they were carefully replaced with his darling’s, sun-tanned fingers lacing between his and squeezing softly before he was being led further into the home.

For the first time, he was given the opportunity to take a look at the large kitchen. And it truly was a _large_ kitchen. The stove itself was home to three separate baking stations, one of which seemed to have two in one, with a dozen well-spaced burners on a gas system overtop.

The countertops were all light grey marble with white veining, the cabinets above and beneath it a slick black color with silver handles and knobs. The appliances were all stainless steel and gleaming, clean and well taken care of.

The floor was a dark purple tiling, with dark purple towels hanging from rods on the stoves and with oven mitts in dark purple hanging from a few knobs and on the wall all around the room. There was a large center island and an open door arch that led into what looked like warm oak cabin-like walls.

The living room was large and open, and he was treated to the incredibly familiar setup to the home he shared with his darling. All pale beige furnitures and leather couches and chairs and footstools. The rugs were a dark blue now, though, and the throws were various shades of pale and dark blue. The fire was roaring in the large fireplace, and if he had to place an occupancy guess, it looked like three dozen people could spread out around the room comfortably, which was good news for the soiree.

In the corner opposite to the wall of the fireplace was a large, rising tree, at least ten feet, dressed lavishly in silver and blue ribbons and bobbles, with a shining, sparkling silver star lit up on the top. The bottom was nearly overflowing with a mountain of gifts, and the tree was already rather high in it’s stand. He couldn’t even see it’s skirt from the many boxes there.

He was offered a brief “This is the living room,” before he was being pulled into a new room or hallway as it was. To the left was a large, wide staircase curving upwards and to the right was a hall of doorways. One of them opened as they were passing, and his love halted for a moment as a head of bright pink halved by bright blue hair poked itself out to check for possible obstacles and settled immediately upon yourself.

You threw your arms open without hesitation and Alastor was treated to the sight of you getting bodily tackled by a short young lady in red pajamas, arms and legs winding around your torso entirely and a small face tucked securely between your breasts without a word.

The huff of air you let out upon impact worried him, but your grin was nearly as wide as his usual one and your eyes were _happy teary_ again.

“Alastor, this is Skit.”

You pat the young girl on the back, and she lifted her head to see you mouth the words “Meet my lover” and help her up onto her feet.

She turned to Alastor slightly, but kept a tight hold of your arm, narrowing her eyes at the tall man that seemed incredibly uncomfortable with her stern and serious examination.

Alastor inwardly groaned, held up his hands and worked through a careful _‘Nice to meet you. My name is A-L-A-S-T-O-R._ ’

Skit showed no outward sign of being affected, but you could physically _feel_ the shift from reluctant and suspicious searching to _delighted curiosity._

_‘Hello. I’m Skit. S-K-I-T. Nice to meet you.’_

Alastor inwardly breathed a sigh of relief when she’d given him a small smile and signed back, so he quickly added. _‘I know a bit now, but I’m still learning.’_

_'You’re learning.’_

She nodded sternly with her repeat, and it seemed he’d won over his second family member in under ten minutes.

She turned to you, then, and signed something rapid fire out of Alastor’s direct line of sight.

_‘I like him. Keep him.’_

_‘I’ll try,'_ you signed back solemnly. _‘I love him very much.’_

Unbeknownst to you, Alastor had been eyeing the only half of the conversation he could clearly see. Which had been yours.

His ears felt like they were burning and he cleared his throat as quietly as he could as he turned to thoroughly inspect a painting hanging on the wall. It was of a very fat white cat. Lovely.

“Alastor,” you called, signing as you spoke, as per usual in this home. “Let’s head up to my room, yeah? I could use a nap and we should finish the tour before you’re hounded by family.”

“Right, of course,” he was already nodding and looping his arm towards you, looking up at the ceiling, out over the walls, across the empty faced doorways peppered with doors that had name plates in slidable slots on the face. A couple even looked to be painted.

“Upstairs,” you informed him politely, guiding him to the stairs after giving Skit a kiss on the head. ‘ _Talk later. Need sleep now. Dinner?_ ’

‘ _Dinner_.’

You waved goodbye and Alastor was quick to meet your pace up the dark blue carpet on the stairs, coming up to the landing before leading him down the long hall with doors on the left and right, with a single door at the very end that was crystal clear and gave a gorgeous view of the lake and the snow-capped trees.

You pointed out rooms as you passed them. “That’s CJ’s, that’s Chrys’s old room. Aurora’s, Belle, Jasmine.. And here’s mine,” you stopped at the one closest to the clear door, a name plate still helpfully applied to the top portion. The bottom portion had been painted over, like many of the other doors, though yours had been given a gentle dusting of spraypaint and had taken the better part of two weeks to finish and another month to remove any possible leftover glitter.

Alastor looked at the galaxy of lines and wiring that bled from the bottom of the door upwards, his hand rubbing up and down at the small of your back as the door was opened and gave him a full view of the room you grew up in.

Propped up in one corner was a large, and he thought _large_ assortment of computer boxes, three monitors that seemed a tad less new than the ones in your personal office sitting atop a corner-hugging desk with shelves packed to the very brim with notebooks, file folders, knick knacks and more than a dozen tiny stuffed animals.

He plucked one up to examine it as you waltzed over to the bed, flopping down face-first into the lavender-scented sheets and almost instantly falling asleep with your feet hanging over the wrong end and your face smooshed in a soft fur-covered pillow.

Alastor slowly took a turn about the room, looking at the colorful posters depicting shows he’d seen you flip to, several of them familiar through Tim Burton marathons and that one anime he’d found mildly charming. _Shingeki no something.._

The sound of your snores brought him back to the present, and he sighed softly as he shut the door, untying his scarf as he went and folding it to rest on the bedside table.

He took off each of your shoes, pried off your jacket, unwound your scarf and put the hat on a rod on the back of the door. You’d rolled onto your side in all of this, and he took a moment to appreciate the curve of your hip and waist before reaching out to trace the very path his eyes had taken, bringing his hand up slowly until he’d cupped your face and kissed you between your sleep-furrowed brows, instantly softening them as you leaned into the gentle touch.

_“Rest well, darling..”_

* * *

The scent of enchiladas woke you from your pleasant dream of riding the Bandersnatch from Alice in Wonderland, and you came to wound tightly up in Alastor’s embrace and deep within the pillowy monstrosity that was your highschool bed. You peered up at his face, seeing the passive smile on his lips and feeling the tips of his fingers wound possessively into the fabric of your cotton shift. Reaching up slowly, you cradled the side of his face, tilting his head down until you were able to awkwardly prop yourself up against the pull of his grip and press a kiss to his lips.

He responded almost lazily at first, the breath coming out of his nose far too slow for him to be fully conscious before he’d inhaled sharply and turned onto his side, taking you with him and sending you flat onto your back with his face now buried into the fluff of your hair.

“Alastor,” you chided, patting his sides lightly and urging him to get up. “Come on, I can smell dinner.. That means Gramps is home..”

Alastor gave a muttered grumble, something about _waiting_ before he was boneless against you for what felt like the hundredth time.

“ _Alastor,_ ” you whined, “Allie~ I want to eat Gramp’s enchiladas~”

“Dearest, can it wait?” he murmured playfully, tilting his head down until he could trail his lips down the side of your face and neck.

You shuddered, swat his shoulder, and reached out for the phone on the bedside table. Checking the time, you were mildly surprised by the fact you’d been asleep for three hours, then dismissed the flash of shock with a roll of your eyes.

If gramps didn’t come to pick you up and drag you to the living room for the meal, then they either weren’t eating yet or he thought you needed the sleep.

“Al, up,” you ordered, twisting and turning your body against his muffled protests until you were able to peel yourself out from under him and get to your feet. The look of betrayal he shot you was dampened severely by his human body and you playfully pat his head before moving to shuck off your hoodie and hang it on the back of the door. Running your fingers through your hair, you eyed the mirror beside the door for a moment, rubbing the last of your lipgloss off with the sleeve and using your thumb to fix your eyeliner.

You flicked your eyes to the reflection of Alastor as he hauled himself to his feet and snuck up behind you, arms curling around you tightly from behind and bringing you close to his chest so he could bury his face in your hair again.

“Comfy?” you asked sarcastically.

“I would be _more_ comfy had you not left the bed,” he muttered.

“Enchiladas-!” you emphasized sternly. “Specifically _Gramp’s_ Enchiladas-!”

“I heard you, dear,” he murmured, trailing his lips slowly down the back of your neck.

There wasn’t any threat of piercing when his blunt teeth brushed your nape, but it was enough to make you flush in embarrassment and reach a hand back to swat him away. “Al-! Stop it-! We’ve gotta meet Gramps and if I’m not presentable, he’s gonna ask what’s up-!”

He pressed a final kiss to your skin before standing straight, turning your chin to face him and using his thumbs to even out the eyeliner you’d missed.

“There, pretty as a picture.”

You felt your face burning hotter, and couldn’t help the exasperated pout that tugged at your bottom lip.

You reached for the door handle, but his hand beat yours, his entire body turning to block the way as he gave you his impish, mischievous smile.

“Now, my dear, you _just_ told me you needed to be presentable to meet your grandfather-!”

Your eyebrows furrowed, and you were legitimately confused for all of eight seconds before-

Ah.

You pulled on your cheeks in the mockery of a smile, then reached past his hip to push the door out, sending him stumbling back two steps before he caught his footing. You caught his flailing hand and hauled him forward, planting a sound kiss on his lips and stunning him silent as you proceeded to drag him towards the staircase.

The warm smell of Mexican food brought saliva pooling in your mouth, and you licked your lips as you pulled Alastor along at a slightly faster pace. No doors opened as you passed them again, but you did run into another young woman at the mouth of the doorway to the living room.

“Ah-” the brunette in front of you perked up abruptly, a sunny smile coming to her just-on-the-cusp-of-adulthood face.

“Wisp-!”

The woman in the blue sweater dress darted into your arms, and you laughed brightly as you swept her up into a tight hug.

_She felt heavier. Good._

“You look great, CJ,” you murmured, pulling back so you could cup the girl’s face. “How’s college treating you?”

CJ’s dark blue sweater dress hung loose on her frame, but you could see color in her cheeks and a softness to her face and shoulders that hadn’t been there a year back. She’d been struggling with staying a decent weight for years because of her allergies, but it looked like she was eating a lot more now.

“Really good,” the brunette chirped, dragging her eyes past you and up to look at Alastor, one eyebrow hiking _way_ higher than the other and a mischievous smile tilting her lips at the corner.

You narrowed your eyes.

“Nice to meet you,” CJ nodded with a wave toward Alastor, linking her arm through your unoccupied one and dragging the chain-link toward the kitchen, where you could see a small horde gathered around the island-bar and bustling back and forth. Alastor’s arm tensed in yours, but he made no other show of discomfort.

“Nana just told me to get you,” CJ informed you promptly, tossing the both of you a smirk when you made no immediate comment. “Reece poked his head in to call you down to help earlier, but he saw you both out cold and Gramps said to let you sleep.”

Your face, which had calmed from Alastor’s earlier teasing, flared up pink again at the insinuation.

“We’ll get introduced and settled before launching the Spanish Inquisition,” CJ assured him in a rather tactless, pointed manner, still dragging you along, and into the kitchen. “Don’t worry. We don’t bite much.”

“Speak for yourself,” the voice of your older cousin caught your ear and you were leaping into his arms just as he opened them to catch you.

“Woah there-! Miss me?”

“Shut up, Reece,” you muttered balefully into his shirt, seeing the worn black fabric and wrinkling your nose before shrugging it off to hug him tighter. He could freeze his ass off if he wanted. He was a grown man. “Where’s Torie and Soran?”

“Planning to steal my lovers?” he teased, spinning you around twice before gripping your shoulders and settling his chin onto one to press your cheeks together, forcing you both to face Al as he was accosted and herded without touch toward the table by Nana, who was waving her arms and speaking brightly about something you couldn’t quite hear over the chatter. “Looks like you have more than you can handle already..”

“Let up, Acid Pop,” Torie clucked her tongue disapprovingly and pulled you out of his hold, her bleach-blonde hair pulled up in a plait today and woven with red and green ribbons. It contrasted heavily with her thick black eyeliner, thick black eyeshadow and heavy black sweater dress with ripped black jeans. Her socks were ankle-length and pink with white hearts.

She brushed her fingers through your hair wistfully before sending her boyfriend a frown, “And don’t pretend like we’re easy to handle.. Soran was _quite_ capable of making you say otherwise just the other night-”

“Eeeeewww,” you groaned, waving her off and sticking out your tongue in disgust as the third part of their triad snuck up between the two and planted a sound kiss on each of their cheeks. “I don't need to hear that.. _Blehck.._ ”

Reece rolled his eyes and gave you a nod. “Go save your boyfriend. He looks lost.”

You spun on your heel and rushed to do just that.

For several minutes, while you were introducing him to Aurora, Belle and Jasmine and their mom and dad, your aunt Franky and Uncle Justin, Alastor kept one arm secured around your torso, holding you tight to his front while the rest of his body and stance appeared relaxed.

Uncle Justin was on the shorter side, just 5’6”, with a full beard, a rugged tan and a swimmer’s build. Aunt Franky however was nearly as tall as Gramps 6’ 5”, herself settled at a nice 6’2” and on-par with alastor’s human-height, while being just as pale, thin and willowy as Nana, her hair an almost exact match to the soft brunette of Nana’s older photos.

Aurora’s hair was curly and long in a lush natural brown, soft brown eyes blinking up at Alastor with surprise on her pale face. Her sister Belle had the faintest tan and a slightly more wide face, her hair just as long and brown and curly although her eyes were hazel rather than brown. Jasmine was the youngest of the cousins, and also the most tan. Dark brown eyes hidden almost entirely by a fluff of soft black bangs, while her hair sat in twin pigtails on the back of her head.

“Girls, this is Alastor,” you gestured upwards to the tense, smiling form of your lover. “Alastor this is Aurora-” The eldest of the three lifted her hand. “Belle,” the middle child fluttered her fingers. “-And Jasmine.” The tween glared at him in silence, but made no move to say hello.

Angst.

“Pleasure to meet you all, ladies,” he ducked his head in a nod, and Jasmine narrowed her eyes further before turning to go sit at the kitchen bar counter.

“Don’t worry about her,” Aurora assured Alastor, who in no way looked relaxed. “She’s not going to warm up to you until she’s sure you’re not going to break Wisp’s heart.”

“We get enough of that from Chrys- _oww_ ,” Belle yelped as said redhead materialized from behind her and pulled her into a rough headlock.

“Say that to my face, brat,” Chrys grumbled, ruining the young girl’s hair with fervent fingers.

“No-no-no-! Lemme go-!”

“Chrysanthemum Larkspur Jordan-!”

Chrys dropped Belle like a hot potato and you chuckled faintly when the room turned guilty glances toward Nana, who had her hands poised on her hips and a disapproving look on her face.

“Is that any way to behave in front of a new guest?”

“Hardly new,” Chrys sniffed, scratching at her scalp as she looked anywhere but toward Nana’s disapproving face. “We’ve met before..”

Nana didn’t look amused.

Gramps was the next person to appear in the kitchen, likely having stepped out to dispose of the trash as he tended to before dinner, and opened up his arms expectantly.

You darted for his arms without a thought, Alastor’s hands lifting quickly to keep from constricting you and raising his eyebrows in mild awe as you leapt a good foot in the air and constricted around your grandfather’s torso like a boa snake.

“ _Gramps_ -!”

“Heya, sweetheart,” he sighed, giving you a tight, rib-popping hug before letting you back on your feet and ruffling your hair. “Sleep well?”

“Uh-huh,” you nodded quickly before turning to wave Alastor forward. Your family took the initiative to part like the Bering Sea for him, which you could tell he appreciated.

Your Grandfather looked Alastor up and down when he was just three or so feet out, standing straight with his head level and his smile firm.

“Hello, sir,” Alastor nodded slightly, the odd experience of having to lift his eyes _up_ at a human unnerving him almost a physical amount against the _anxiety_ of trying to impress the family of his paramour. “It’s an honor to be invited to spend the holidays in your home. I quite appreciated the offer.”

Gramps huffed, held out a hand, and waited.

Alastor shook his hand as firmly as he could manage, almost quaking with the strength of the grip before his hand was released and his shoulder was swat lightly with a purple hand towel.

“Wisp here says you know your way around the kitchen?”

“My mother saw to that,” Alastor chuckled faintly.

“Good,” Gramps nodded, already turning to walk toward the oven and slipping large purple mitts over his hands. “You can help out with the morning meals then.. Keep Chrys away from the stove and you should be fine.”

“Hey-!” Chrys’ indignant shout was overlapped by the laughter of the rest of the family, and you reached out a hand to pinch her cheek before tucking yourself into Alastor’s side, threading your fingers together carefully and squeezing back tightly as he tightened his grip.

‘You okay?’ you mouthed.

He nodded faintly.

Everyone was handed a plate heaped with enchiladas and refried beans and you moaned in delight as you pranced brightly toward the living room, Alastor close by and following dutifully as you cleared a small love seat of it’s decorative pillows and reached beneath it for a pair of wooden lap-desk trays. Alastor seemed surprised by the quick way you’d flicked both of them out for your laps, but said nothing as you set it over his lap and helped him arrange his cup without dropping it. You set up your own after a moment and wiggled in anticipation as everyone did as you had, slipping the slim desks from beneath the sofas and in one case a single chair to put their plates and drinks down.

“You doing okay?” you asked softly, watching the corner of his mouth shift in consideration as he glanced around the room.

He leaned in close to your ear to answer you, his breath fluttering the hair at your neck and making you shiver. “I had thought you were pulling my leg when you mentioned eating in the living room.”

You chuckled, reaching up a hand to rub his cheek before pecking his forehead and settling in to eat.

As soon Gramps sat down beside Nana and settled with his own tray, the family dug in with no small amount of relief and eagerness.

Alastor carefully sliced and portioned out his bites before he ate, but you were far too eager to care about the neatness of your bites and sliced off an entire corner to put it in your mouth, moaning around the bite without pause and slumping a bit in your seat.

_Gods, it was so good.._

Alastor offered you a glance, but dutifully took his own bite, mildly surprised to find the spice and slick, soft meat rather pleasant on the tongue.

With how good of a cook you were however, he shouldn’t have been surprised at the talent. You had to have learned from _someone_ after all. And hadn’t you mentioned that you helped your grandparents cook often?

_He was_ **_not_ ** _miffed about your obvious appreciation of your grandfather’s food._ **_Of course_ ** _he’d never heard you moan for_ **_his_ ** _cooking, it wasn’t proper etiquette.. You might have a pass around family-_

“How is it?” you asked in a soft, happy voice. The television was on with some Netflix show you didn’t recognize, but Soran and Reece were bouncing in delight and chuckling every once in a while with Aunt Franky of all people.

“It’s wonderful,” he admit. “I can see where you get your talent.”

“Gramp’s food is the _best_ ,” you emphasized sagely, nodding with your words before shoving another bite into your mouth with another happy moan.

Alastor twitched, his smile firm, but went back to eating, trying to reluctantly enjoy the rest of the meal.

Soon enough, everyone was gathering up the dishes, and with a glance at the whiteboard magnetized to the fridge on it’s open side, the names beneath _Dishes_ read _Reece_ and _Jasmine._

“It’s a raffle draw every Sunday morning for _Dishes_ duty,” you explained at Alastor’s curious glance, helping to guide his plate to a neat tower of them beside the sink and above the dishwasher. “We haven’t had any problems with the system so far..”

“Efficient,” he murmured, fingers curling around your hand as you tugged him into the hall and began dragging him toward the hallway they hadn’t gone down earlier.

“So I showed you the upstairs, minus the roof and deck, but this hall has Skit’s bedroom, CJ’s bedroom, Reece’s old bedroom and Aurora’s room.. And that last door down there is to Aunt Franky and Uncle Justin’s.. Then we have two bathrooms, one on each end of the hall here..” You opened the closest one for emphasis, then pulled him toward a larger, wide door to tug open the handle and reveal a set of stairs.

“The basement is through here..”

You lead him down the steps with a hushed giggle, giving him a playful smile over your shoulder before pulling him into the dark.

He walked carefully behind you, mindful not to step on your heels. And while he could see perfectly well in pitch darkness, he played along with your leading by holding tight to your hand and staying close.

“Almost.. _There_ ,” you pushed open the door at the end of the short hall of doors on either side, grinning brightly with a chuckle as you flipped the switch and caused your boyfriend to blink in surprise at the sudden influx of light. The room wasn’t overly large. Maybe twenty feet by thirty feet, with one long wall nothing but a mirror with a bar running along the length of it. The floors were paneled wood and buffed and waxed to a shine. Mounted into the wall to the door’s direct right was a large stereo system, and if you looked up at the ceiling, you could see speakers mounted into the ceiling itself and painted to blend in with the ceiling panels.

“Welcome to the studio,” you waved out your arms, grinning brightly when you finished your double spin and spreading your arms wider in welcome. “This is where I learned to dance.. And this is where we have fighting classes.. There are big mats in that cupboard-” you pointed to a sliding door Alastor hadn’t noticed that blended almost seamlessly into the wall itself. “-And there’s also a lot of stage props and costumes.. This is basically a big playroom.. The game room is on the other side of the basement hallway.. But that room has foam lining on the walls to keep volume out and in.”

Alastor hummed, holding out his hand to take your outstretched one and twirling you once, then twice, before pulling you back to lean against his chest. His arms wound down and around your stomach, his chin settled comfortably atop your head as you faced the mirror and stood quietly.

After a few minutes of the quiet pause, Alastor offered his thoughts to your unspoken prodding.

“Your family is very.. _Welcoming.._ By any chance, did you tell them about my five foot rule?”

“I did,” you agreed without hesitation, “Gramps fought in World War Two and Vietnam, and Nana was a nurse’s assistant. They know perfectly well what it’s like to have mental guidelines that people need to follow to live happily and comfortably. They’ve always encouraged us to be open and honest with each other, and they take things like anxiety, depression, eating disorders and mental illnesses seriously. A lot of people in their age range have trouble accepting that anyone under the age of thirty have opinions and feelings but Gramps and Nana raised their children and us to respect our limits and the limits of others.. There was no question if they’d give you the space you needed, whether you personally asked for it or not.”

Alastor hummed, warm breath fanning through your hair and giving you leave to close your eyes and relax in his arms. His eyes, however, were trained on the picture the two of you made in the mirror. Him with his pressed button-up and slacks and you in your comfy jeans and a sweater.

His eyes traced the soft line of your jaw and the gentle rush of curls escaping your pony-tail. The dip of your waist and the slim joints of your fingers where they laced between his.

_You were beautiful.._

You slid out of his arms and turned to throw a wink over your shoulder, pulling your phone from your back pocket and working quick to hook it up to the sound system. Alastor ticked his head to the side, smiling in that amused, playful way he did when he knew you were up to something.

The playlist gave you about eight seconds of silence before it started, so you were quick to pull off your sweater and throw it in the corner and rush up to pull Alastor into a quick spin just as Frank’s Sinastra’s voice bellowed over the trumpets and saxophones. Alastor took your hand without hesitation, his grin bright and eager as he pulled you into a sudden swing. Neither of you bothered to notice the door crack open and a camera lens on the back of a touchscreen phone angled into the room in silence before the music started.

_“Way down among Brazilians coffee beans grow by the billions_

_So they’ve got to find those extra cups to fill._

_They’ve got an awful lot of coffee in Brazil.”_

Your steps were quick as the two of you spun round and round in a Lindy-hop, your giggles rising with each spin and his lips pressing different surprise pecks to your cheeks to try throwing you off your game.

_“You can’t get cherry soda ‘cause they’ve got to fill that quota._

_And the way things are I bet they never will._

_They’ve got a zillion cups of coffee in Brazil.”_

You did a quick twirl around him and shifted onto your toes to twirl him under your arm, laughing outright when he complied and sliding into a quick turn to match his angled kick-steps.

_“No tea, no tomato juice,_

_You’ll see, no potato juice._

_The planters down in Santos all say no, no, no!”_

_‘Are they even touching the ground-?!’_ Torie mouthed aggressively. Soran shrugged, but hurriedly brought his eyes back to the crack in the door at Reece’s hurried swatting, just in time to watch you go feet over head directly over Al’s back and roll off the end into a complicated series of lifts and turns. _Holy shit. That was fast-_

“ _The politician’s daughter was accused of drinkin’ water,_

_And was fined a great big fifty dollar bill._

_They’ve got an awful lot of coffee in Brazil-!”_

Alastor pulled you into another angled quickstep and you followed with ease, holding tight to his hands as he practically pranced you around the room as the saxophones blared through the speakers.

_“You date a girl and find out later,_

_She smells just like a percolator._

_Her perfume was made right on the grill!_

_Why they could percolate the ocean in Brazil-!_

_And when their ham and eggs need savor_

_Coffee ketchup give’s ‘em flavor_

_Coffee pickles way outsell the dill-!_

_Why they put coffee in the coffee in Brazil-!”_

The three were huddled one on top of the other, desperately holding in their gasps when you were tossed and spun and thrown around almost like a ragdoll, though your movements exuded an almost _impossible_ level of control and grace.

Truthfully you were just used to Alastor’s style and used a lot of balance techniques from Capoeira and Ballet to keep up.

_“No tea, no tomato juice,_

_You’ll see, no potato juice._

_The planters down in Santos all say no, no, no._

_So you lead to the local color,_

_Serving coffee with a cruller,_

_Dunkin’ doesn’t take a lot of skill-!”_

Alastor had you entirely over his head with that flip, and you gracefully arched in his grip until you were back on the ground again and working to keep your legs matched with his in the hurried pace of the finale.

_“They’ve got an awful lot of coffee-_

_An awful lot of coffee-”_

Alastor spun and twisted you a final time around his torso before giving you a deep dip, your knee hooked over his hip and your breath heaving as he held you steady.

“ _Man they got a gang of coffee in Brazil~!”_

The room fell silent as the song ended. You hadn’t left it on autoloop or shuffle, leaving you to catch your breath as he held you close.

Alastor’s eyes were settled silently on your face, his own chest heaving far less than yours but his breath clearly more labored than usual. Gently, he lifted the arm bracing your back, and your hands flew up to his neck to pull him close as he pressed his lips to yours.

The sheer tension of the upbeat song and the flirty way you’d teased one another as you danced had clearly broken something in his patience, because the next thing you knew was that he was kneeling on the polished floor above you and had his hands buried in your hair as he kissed you senseless.

You were too far gone to notice the door hurriedly shutting or hear the rushed footsteps back to the other side of the basement hall, more focused on keeping your knee on his hip and your arms behind his neck to keep him close.

* * *

“..I’m posting this on Youtube,” Reece declared in the safety of the game room. Soran was looking between his male lover, who was clutching the phone like an unholy grail, and his female lover, who was nodding sagely.

“No one is concerned about losing their functioning reproductive bits and/or necks by one or _both_ of them?” Soran asked, a mild note of sarcasm in his voice.

“Chill babes,” Torie reached out to pinch the red-haired young man’s cheeks. “I’ll talk her out of it. Just be sure to hide Reece really well until then.”

“Have you _met_ her?” Soran deadpanned. “She hunts for sport.”

“Better to seek forgiveness than permission,” Reece shrugged.

“I’m partnered to dimwits,” Soran moaned, flopping into a large beanbag chair and covering his face with a pillow.

This could only end badly.

* * *

**BAM-!**

**Allie's met the fam.**

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**That's all for now-!**

_**Stay Tuned~** _

**-Pistol Out.**


	28. Bathroom Shenanigans

Alastor kept you caged on the floor for close to an hour, his demon magic giving you a cushioned surface rather than the hard wood, relieving the pressure on your back as you were pressed into it harder by him relaxing all of his weight upon you.

It was his go-to when he didn’t want you getting up, and whether you argued about it or not, you couldn’t deny it was effective.

You tried to catch your breath as he turned his kisses to your neck, and you made a noise of warning before reaching down to tug at the tip of his very _human_ ear.

He made a startled noise, and you narrowed your eyes at his pouting face.

“Bedtime,” you insisted, patting his slides firmly in an effort to hurry him. “I need a shower and you need to calm down.”

He looked confused, flushed but confused, and you visibly rolled your eyes at him before tilting your hips forward into his.

The strangled noise he made was better than any love song you’d heard.

“Like I said,” you repeated, narrowing your eyes as the smirk pulled at your lips, “I need a shower, and you need to calm down..”

He grumbled something you didn’t understand, likely French, and used his arms to pick you up completely, lifting you high enough that you were closer to resting your weight on his stomach and almost half-thrown over his shoulder.

You swat his behind as he started walking, enjoying his yelp and grinning like the cat that caught the canary _and_ nicked the cream when you caught his eye in the mirror.

“You’re playing with fire, _mon amour_ ,” he murmured, continuing on his way to the door.

You were content to hang limp for now, resting your elbows behind his ribs where it wouldn’t hurt as much and propping your face on your palms. “Please, if you didn’t know about my pyromania obsession at this point, we aren’t even dating.”

He swat your ass.

You yelped in indignation, but relented with a huff and stayed quiet as he walked you up through the home.

You had no shame as you passed Aunt Franky in the downstairs hall, flashing her a peace sign behind Al’s back after he’d said something charming and hurried about putting you in the corner for a time-out. Aunt Franky was laughing before he even finished, waving him off and sending you a wink and an ‘ok’ symbol with her fingers before you’d disappeared completely around the spiral curve.

Aunt Franky was awesome.

Alastor let you both into your room with one hand, the other pressed firmly over your rear is warning as he walked you into the bedroom, set you on your feet, and pulled you into a searing kiss. Your hips pressed into the edge of your nearly empty desk, and you hopped up and back to sit on it so when Alastor pressed forward he was halted by the wood.

He gave a growl as your lips left his, and you chuckled sweetly before reaching up to pull him forward by the collar of his shirt. His lips met yours again with a contented sigh, and you wound your legs behind his hips as he leaned forward, one arm keeping him steady on the desk while the other curled into the thick of your hair again.

You were starting to wonder if he had a kink for it.

_Not the time to think about it._

“Mmn, Al,” you muttered, pulling back with a huff of breath and giving him a disapproving look as he ducked his head into your neck and started peppering it with whisper-soft kisses. It was making your blood boil and you had to force yourself to sit still and not jolt forward with every brush against your very _vulnerable_ pulse.

“I still need a shower..”

“ _Later_..”

The sound of static in his words left you feeling the noise physically, _deep_ within your hips and core.

You felt your hips jump at the sound, but you let out a frustrated huff and reached up a hand to rub at the lobe of his ear between your thumb and index finger. “Come on.. I wanna smell clean..”

He gave another growl that travelled through your entire body before backing off, licking his lips softly within your line of sight and smirking _very_ obviously when you gave a harsh shudder at the sight of his tongue licking away whatever taste of you he’d managed to catch on his lips.

“Tease,” you muttered.

He looked down at you with his eyebrows raised high, slowly lifting his eyes from your legs to your face again as if to silently say ‘Really?’.

“Oh hush,” you huffed, lightly pressing him back so you could hop off the desk, silently curse your wobbly legs and take a moment to find your sea legs again before taking a trip to get to your bags.

_Which had been brought in by someone else.._

_Damnit Gramps, I could have gotten them myself._ You pouted as you noticed where he’d set them, where he always set the kid’s bags if he brought them in; at the foot of the bed and on their sides with the handle facing the door.

You dug around for a minute, pulling out your pajamas, fresh underwear and a bathroom caddy with all of your soaps and lotions. There was also a loofah on a stick.

Alastor sat down onto the bed and watched you, one elbow braced on his knee holding up his chin, while the other arm hung loose at his side.

“Do you want to shower first?” you asked curiously, holding up the soaps you’d brought for him as well as a warm red towel you’d brought from home.

He shook his head silently, watching intently as you shrugged, set his things onto the black leather bench in front of your bed that doubled as a chest and stood to leave. “Alright, I’ll be back in a bit.” You pressed a kiss to his forehead, pausing as his arms wound around you and held _tight_.

He breathed you in slowly, and you waited until his grip relaxed on its own before you risked reaching up to push the hair from his face. “You okay?”

He nodded, brushed a kiss to your cheek and turned you towards the door. “I’ll be fine, my dear. It’s just been.. A long day.”

“We can talk about it if you think it might help,” you offered. “Or I can give you some space to think about it alone. Or we can just go to bed and cuddle after your shower.”

“Option three for now,” he chuckled after a serious moment of thought. He pet your cheek, and you pressed a fleeting kiss to it before turning on your heel and rushing for the bathroom. There wasn’t a set schedule for the bathrooms, as there were four, so it was first-come-first serve.

Alastor stared at the door after you’d left for several minutes, settling back onto the bed and folding his legs one over the other and summoning a _rag-a-muffin_ as you took to calling them. He began stroking and petting it like a cat as you had so many times before, coaxing soft purrs of delight from the creature as he mulled over the day.

His form rippled and shifted with a series of pops and he shook out his hair between his ears and antlers before settling back again. A glance at his suitcase toward the front pocket had his hand stalling within the shadowy “fur” of his minion, and he heard the dissasified grumbles before he’d resumed petting.

_What he wouldn’t give to let you meet his mother with him.._

Alastor woke up without you in his arms, which was the first indication that this wouldn’t be a good morning.

The second hint to this being the case was Chester, _already summoned from his innocently sitting microphone staff_ , holding a piece of paper that had your familiar, loopy scrawl in your favored blue gel pen. _The chap was also munching on a cookie, but that wasn’t his primary focus._

* * *

**𝒢𝑜𝑜𝒹 ℳ𝑜𝓇𝓃𝒾𝓃𝑔 𝒟𝒶𝓇𝓁𝒾𝓃𝑔 𝒟𝑒𝒶𝓇𝑒𝓈𝓉. 𝒴𝑜𝓊 𝓌𝑒𝓇𝑒 𝓈𝓁𝑒𝑒𝓅𝒾𝓃𝑔 𝓋𝑒𝓇𝓎 𝒹𝑒𝑒𝓅𝓁𝓎 𝒶𝓃𝒹 ℐ 𝓅𝓇𝑜𝓂𝒾𝓈𝑒𝒹 𝓉𝑜 𝒽𝑒𝓁𝓅 𝒸𝑜𝑜𝓀 𝒷𝓇𝑒𝒶𝓀𝒻𝒶𝓈𝓉 𝓈𝑜 ℐ 𝓈𝓁𝒾𝓅𝓅𝑒𝒹 𝑜𝓊𝓉 𝓌𝒾𝓉𝒽𝑜𝓊𝓉 𝓌𝒶𝓀𝒾𝓃𝑔 𝓎𝑜𝓊. 𝒜 𝒻𝑒𝒶𝓉 ℐ 𝒶𝓂 𝓈𝓉𝒾𝓁𝓁 𝓈𝒽𝑜𝒸𝓀𝑒𝒹 𝑜𝓋𝑒𝓇, ℐ 𝒶𝓈𝓈𝓊𝓇𝑒 𝓎𝑜𝓊. 𝒮𝓁𝑒𝑒𝓅 𝓌𝑒𝓁𝓁, ℐ’𝓁𝓁 𝒷𝑒 𝓊𝓅 𝓉𝑜 𝑔𝑒𝓉 𝓎𝑜𝓊 𝓈𝑜𝑜𝓃 𝒾𝒻 𝓌𝑒’𝓇𝑒 𝒻𝒾𝓃𝒾𝓈𝒽𝑒𝒹 𝒷𝑒𝒻𝑜𝓇𝑒 𝓎𝑜𝓊 𝓌𝒶𝓀𝑒 𝓊𝓅 𝑜𝓃 𝓎𝑜𝓊𝓇 𝑜𝓌𝓃. 𝒲𝒾𝓉𝒽 𝓁𝑜𝓋𝑒, 𝒲**

* * *

There was even a kiss of slick black lipstick on the bottom of the page, and he grumbled wordlessly as he held it closer and pouted at the floor in the direction of the kitchen.

“Alright, alright, I’m up,” he muttered, waving off Chester with a hand and double-checking that his human form hadn’t faded in his sleep, _as if it would_ , then moving to dress for the day.

He felt his entire being _perk up_ as he heard your voice singing once he’d opened the door, following his trusty hearing down the hall and steps for the kitchen when several voices joined yours seamlessly and without hesitation. Clearly the group had been doing this for a while. The song ended, and he paused just outside the room as silence settled for only a few seconds before another strand of music began playing, something lighthearted and very strong-oriented.

_“Yah-dum-dah-dah-dee-dah-ahh..”_

Alastor hesitated in the kitchen doorway, floored at the sudden _motion_ within that so closely resembled a machine.

He could only watch.

 _"High is the moon tonight,_ ” the girl, Aurora, if he remembered correctly, was leading the song with his love doing an odd form of scat, softer, more light and airy as a sort of echo, with CJ, who he remembered for sure, and Reece, with the hair so bright and green it looked like toxic waste. _"Hi_ _gh is it’s guiding light, high..”_

Back and forth he watched the quartet sing and whisk and toss bowls of what he assumed were eggs and in one case, a bag of potatoes.

 _"H_ eaven _and earth do sleep, still in the dark so deep, I will the darkness sweep..”_

 _"Yah-dah-dah-dah-dah-dah-dah,”_ you sang back brightly. Joined quickly by CJ who repeated the words back and then repeated them again with you in a sweet chorus.

 _"_ _I will the moon to flight,”_ Aurora continued against the soft chorus, working a sharpened knife steadily over a large slice of thick ham, cutting into neat cubes. _“I will the heaven’s bright, I will the earth delight..”_

 _"Yah-dah, dah, dah, dah, dah, dah,”_ your chorus was sweet on his ears, and he settled in to watch, leaning on the ledge with his arms folded across his chest and his eyes watching closely as you quickly peeled the potatoes tossed to you in your favored spiral manner.

 _“Open your eyes with me, see paradise with me,”_ Aurora continued to sing, and Reece was chopping firmly at the potatoes you’d rolled to him to wash and dice. CJ was working up a large batch of scrambled eggs on two burners on the stove. _“Awake and arise with me_.”

 _“Yah-dah, dah, dah, dah, dah, dah,”_ you sang. CJ quickly joined and twined the chorus with you until all three of you could sing the full chorus together.

 _"_ _I am the dawn, I’m the new day begun.”_ Alastor felt his smile softening at the pure _love_ on your face as you finished peeling the last of your potatoes and moved to help with the stove. Your words were never more true than they were to _him._

_“I bring you the morning, I bring you the sun. I hold back the night and I open the skies, I give light to the world, I give sight to your eyes. From the first of all time.”_

_“Until time is undone,”_ Aurora added.

 _"_ _Forever and ever and ever and ever,”_ the three girls' voices mixed and blended brilliantly, and he closed his eyes for a moment as he tried to focus on _yours._

_"_ _And I am the dawn and the sky and the sun, I am one with the One and I am the dawn..”_

He waited patiently for the music from the small speaker to finish before he clapped brightly, startling the girls so harshly that the young lady still slicing ham nearly nicked her fingers.

“Bravo-! _Bravissimo_ -! That was wonderful-!”

“Alastor McCarthy-!” You snapped, and he flinched a little in surprise at the last name before remembering _this isn’t Hell, her knowing his name isn’t going to matter-_

“Learn to announce yourself,” you scolded.

“I’ll be sure to do so in the future,” he vowed in a solemn voice, though his smile twitched at the edges and betrayed his urge to grin at your pouting face.

“Sure you will,” you muttered, rolling your eyes before pointing at Reece, who was still dutifully chopping the potatoes, “Since you’re down here, you can help. Reece has a lot more to wash and cut.”

Alastor rolled up his sleeves and moved to follow suit to wash his hands and follow your not-so-subtle order, and while Aurora eyed him silently for several more seconds and slid her eyes to the music player that had gone silent after CJ pressed pause, you offered her a gentle nod.

“He’s not gonna complain, sweetheart. I belch out Queen so often he’s used to music in the kitchen. Just no rap.”

“It’s not even music,” Alastor’s mutinous rumble was emphasized by a sharp slicing noise before he’d gotten into a rhythm.

“Hey,” Reece whined, “Rap is a respectable genre-”

“It's nothing but spit,” Alastor deadpanned, “Hardly any rhythm and ninety percent of the time it is horrid language mixed with demeaning and sexist-”

“Oh-KAY-!” You interrupted, “Rorie. Put something on, for the love of _Satan_.”

Alastor spluttered out a laugh, rushing to cover it when the green-haired young man looked perplexed and mildly put off.

“I don’t even want to know..” Reece muttered darkly.

* * *

Alastor cemented that it wouldn’t be a good morning when your face had gone from delighted to seeing the face of your grandmother, to soured when she opened her mouth to speak.

“It looks like Margaret and Annabelle and their children and such will be by around noon or so,” she offered by way of making conversation once everyone had settled around the breakfast bar, though Skit and Jasmine had left to eat in the living room with Belle to watch some episode of a show.

Alastor reached out a hand to cover yours, mildly surprised when you turned your palm and linked your fingers together to squeeze _hard_.

It was absolutely nothing to him, but he could tell you were under a lot of strain on your patience.

“Is everyone prepped to switch rooms?” Nana asked the group calmly. Soran nudged Reece into paying attention, causing the acid-haired teen to nod enthusiastically while Torie rolled her eyes.

Aurora, Jasmine and Belle had less to move, so they’d been done for a while. Reece, Soran and Torie were going to be sleeping in the temperature-controlled attic, since it had been turned into a sort of lounge last summer. Jasmine was moving into Skit’s room, Belle was moving into CJ’s room and Aurora was bunking with Chrys.

Wisteria was lucky to share her own room with Al and not have to board any of the rest of Nana’s brood.

_She really spoke too soon._

* * *

“This is stupid,” you hissed, staring at the _five_ children and handful of engaged partners that had not been accounted for in the memo.

_Three of which were infants and the other two being toddlers._

Alastor kept his arms wound safely around your torso, holding you firm to his front as you both observed the _massive_ amount of people pouring into the house from the Blythemere Airport rental vans.

“This means that CJ and Belle will need to share with Chrys and Aurora, Skit and Jasmine are going to have children in their room, and there’s going to be a lot of couples in the living room,” you sighed, running a hand down your face in aggravation before giving your sister a sympathetic frown.

Chrys was working to inflate a king-sized air mattress into her room, where Aurora and Belle were trying to sign something to Skit, who looked mutinous and sour as she pouted in the corner of one of the living room couches.

You walked over to offer your condolences and wondered if you would get away with asking Al if she could come in if an emergency presented itself.

While you worked to calm her down, Jasmine was taking her mother’s words to heart and rushed around the room to hide her electronics and move them to your bedroom at your earlier admission.

Aurora had long since packed up and stored her vocal equipment. Basically everyone had stored and hidden anything that had even the slightest chance of being stolen or broken without Nana knowing.

You returned to Alastor’s side around lunchtime, slumping onto the couch beside him and sprawling across his lap as the house became full of talking, laughter, complaints and the sounds and smell of children.

Alastor would never admit how uncomfortable he was to be stared at in shock, confusion and often _appreciation_ by so many people, so instead silently encouraged you to completely sit sideways in his lap and rest your cheek on his shoulder. You were content to doze on his shoulder for the first round of relatives, and by the time the second came, you were completely asleep.

“You must be Al.”

Alastor looked up in surprise to see a tall gentleman with thick black hair gelled back into a low ponytail, the figure on his arm a petite young man with freckles across his nose and a full head of lush blonde hair.

“Wisteria wouldn’t play cat with anyone she wasn’t related to unless she’d put a claim on them,” the man offered to Alastor’s faint surprise at being called out. “If she’s comfortable enough to fall asleep on you, then you’re safe enough in our books to talk to.. I’m Brian Rhodes, and this is my husband, George Rhodes.” The blonde twittered his finger playfully, then signed _‘Can’t speak. Can hear. Do you know sign?’_

“I know a bit of sign,” Alastor nodded, fingers curled gently in your hair and carefully let go to right _Red Radio_ from his lips to the side of his head. “That’s my _sign name_ , as she explained it.. Otherwise it’s” ‘ _A-L-A-S-T-O-R’ “_ -Alastor.”

 _‘Alastor_ ,’ the blonde mouthed, then grinned brightly and did the motion for _Red Radio._ He finished it off with the ‘Ok’ sign with an enthusiastic nod.

“It’s rare to find people who understand him,” Brian sighed, though he was smiling faintly at the sight of Nana in the corner, “Aunt Lenore’s always been one of the best people.. And she raises the best people, too.” His eyes strayed to Wisteria pointedly, and Alastor felt like he was being sized up.

“I’m not going to warn you away from breaking her heart,” Brian admitted with a shrug as he and his petite husband settled onto the couch, George pulling off his sheep-wool lined coat to fold it behind him and pull out his phone for the text-to-speak app. “She’s a big girl who knows how to make her own decisions. But I can promise you that if you wrong her in any way, you’re going to have us as the least of your problems. She doesn’t make a big deal out of people falling out of love with her, but she takes betrayal very seriously. If you break up mutually, that’s fine. But be mindful of the fact that she hunts for sport.”

Alastor shuddered, flashed him a grin, and nodded calmly.

_"How did you meet?”_

Alastor jumped a bit at the sound of the computerized voice, but George only offered him a smile, thumbs tapping nearly at the speed of light for the added. _“Faster than sign.”_

“Well, she purchased an old radio of mine and restored it..” he offered after a faint pause, “We began speaking at length and eventually decided to move in together as.. roommates..”

 _“They were roommates_ ,” the computerized voice repeated. Brian groaned faintly, but he was smiling like a sap, and shooting his love an exasperated look at the absolute awe and _‘squeeeee’_ on George’s face.

“Let me guess,” Brian sighed. “She seduced you with memes and her extensive knowledge of the human brain and cardiovascular system?”

Alastor could have cringed.

 _How did he_ **_know_ ** _?_

It must have been on his face, because Brian answered after a glance. “She’s a charming girl. Morbid but charming. Like a creepy ceramic doll with a butcher’s knife.”

His mind’s eye showed him a picture of your hair done up in ringlet curls, a bright white dress poofed out at your shoulders and hips and one hand holding a butcher’s knife as you pouted up at him childishly. You were standing with your toes pointed inward and your eyes big and sad and you were _drenched in so much blood- **he is in public he shouldn’t be thinking about this** \- _

He cleared his throat, shrinking back an inch at the knowing, suggestive look on the petite man’s face.

“So, tell us about you,” Brian urged. “Chrys said you hunt?”

Alastor inwardly sighed in the relief of not having to think of anything human-safe to talk about. “Yes, I enjoy hunting. Buck tends to be my preference, but I’ve enjoyed other mammals as well..”

“George here shot his first pheasant last week,” Brian grinned, putting a hand on his husband’s shoulder and causing the mute blonde to swat his arm half-heartedly, face flushed pink. “We had it sent to a professional taxidermist to celebrate. Do you cook what you catch, or do you sell the meat? It’s been a while since I’ve had decent venison.”

The smalltalk continued for a good while, and Alastor found a fellow lover of jazz in Brian and a very interested George who took his hunting tips to heart.

It was nearing dinner when Alastor was nudged to attention by you, looking down quickly to see you were awake, and seemed to have been for quite a while, if the fond, warm expression on your face was anything to go by.

“I can smell dinner,” you informed him softly, your right arm, which was the one _not_ pinned between the two of you, reaching up so you could comb your fingers through his bangs. “Why’d you let me sleep so long?”

“You needed it, dear,” he blinked, not really seeing anything wrong with the executive decision to allow you the rest and _maybe_ use a _teensy_ bit of magic to lower the surrounding volume around you both to a manageable rumble.

Your smile seemed to warm further, and you sat up to plant a firm kiss on his cheek.

“You’re sweet.”

You slid off of his lap and popped up onto your feet, catching your balance before turning on your heel to face him, arms behind your back and your smile mischievous. “Want me to fix our plates? You can save our spots..”

He nodded faintly, trusting you to grab things he’d actually enjoy and settled back into the couch to resist the urge to grab you again and return you to his lap.

He was becoming concerningly attached to the heat and weight you provided in your little cat-naps. He didn’t know how he felt about that..

_Maybe fond?_

* * *

Taking a shower with 50+ people in the home was absolute hell.

You had to make concessions, and in some cases, _double up._

“Come on, Al, it’s not like you haven’t seen me in a bikini,” you probed, verbally coaxing him into joining you in the bathroom where you’d literally handed Chrys 20 bucks to sit inside and remind everyone that it was occupied.

“My dear, this will be _far_ from a similar situation,” Alastor argued, his spine stiff and his shoulders hunched toward his ears as he paced back and forth through your bedroom, while you followed along after his pacing like a sappy, goofily-smiling fool. His face was flushed pink and he looked so _adorable damnit-!_

“It’s just a bath, Al,” you insisted, “I’ll even put some really nice bubble bath in so you can keep your moral high horse.”

“It’s not a moral high horse-!” he argued, his voice pitching higher as he spun on his heel and stopped, making you crash neatly into his chest and grip the sides of his maroon button-up. “I am a feared demon of Hell-! Sinners quake at the sound of my very _footsteps_.”

“And you’re also my adorably sweet boyfriend with a gentleman streak that makes me _very_ happy,” you finished, a purr nearly coating your words as you leaned forward to nuzzle your cheek into his chest. “Of course you’re a big scary demon, sweetie, but you’re _my_ big scary demon, so there’s a difference.”

Alastor fumed silently, simply breathing in and out while you nuzzled at him.

He was cracking.. _Just a little more.._

“I’ll let you play with my hair~”

He stilled, narrowed his eyes and said nothing. You turned your chin up, meeting his gaze for several seconds before pursing your lips in a ‘kiss-kiss’ pose.

He bent his head, pressed a kiss to your lips, and pulled back to sigh.

His face was flushed _red_ and you nearly bounced in place as he glowered at the mock-balcony you had pulled your curtains aside to show off earlier.

“..Fine.”

You cheered quietly, jumping up and down a few more times before throwing your arms around his neck and pressing a kiss to his mouth again. At his gasp of surprise, you slipped your tongue past his lips, gently coaxing him into a sensual dance of wits as your fingers curled into fabric and hair.

His arms wound around your waist, and you waited until he was sufficiently calmed down and sappy with love-dovey-kissing feelings before pulling back so you could gather your things.

You picked up your towels and caddies and fresh clothes, making sure to add the soap you knew he preferred for your hair and skipping up to the door with a wiggle of your hips.

“Come on, I bribed Chrys for only a few more minutes, if we’re doing this, we’ve gotta do it now.”

Alastor grumbled something you didn’t understand, but took the items out of your arms and opened the door, gesturing for you to go first. You did a curtsy with the ends of your flowy white camisole and skipped down the hallway, knocking your favored twin rap that was a replication of the Hufflepuff Common Room entrance in Harry Potter.

 _Hel-ga Huff-le-puff,_ you mentally recited with the five knocks timed correctly.

Chrys opened the door with a swish, shot you a knowing look and fanned herself with the twenty like a noble lady of old.

“Don’t steam up the place _too_ bad,” she teased, grinning wolfishly at Al when she noticed his face flushed darkly at the insinuation. “Fuck, you really _haven’t_ done anything, have you?”

“Out-!” You shoved her out of the room and pulled Alastor in within the same three seconds, shutting it firmly and sighing in relief before giving your lover a faint smile. “Sorry about her, she likes to tease.”

“So I see,” he murmured, setting the items onto the counter mutinously and refusing to look at you whatsoever, even through the mirror.

Chrys walked casually down the hall toward her own room, ignorant of the eyes that zeroed in on her smirking face, greedy, perverse minds taking and storing away the information for later use.

_Neither of you had any idea what that conversation would become._

* * *

True to your word, you plucked through the bottles for the bubble bath you’d brought, holding a large glass vial of a red liquid you were hesitant to offer as well. Maybe after you washed..?

“Do you want the water to be aesthetic?” you asked in an offhand manner, juggling your bath bombs with the soap and the bubble bath bottle. It was expensive stuff, with a twisted glass bottle and an expensive top you’d had to uncork the first time you’d used it.

You only used it for _very_ special occasions.

Like graduating College.

Or making that deal with Google.

_And now the first bath you were going to share with your boyfriend._

“..Explain?”

You perked up at his hesitant voice, offering a sweet smile over your shoulder to Alastor, who had taken to standing near the towel rack, staring intently at the decorative sea life stitched into the corners. Your grandmother’s handiwork, if you weren’t mistaken.

“I’ve got bath bombs to turn the water color and scent,” you held up the chalky balls for his barest attempt at a glance, and then the vial, which he eyed shrewdly. “And this weird vampire-gothic site thing sold blood-colored bath oil.. It’s supposed to smell like apples.”

He eyed the red bath bombs, the little vial and the pearl-colored bath soap.

“..Why not,” he sighed, his human guise slipping away with every button that came undone from his shirt. You drank in the sight of him undressing until he’d sent you an amused look, and you quickly hiked up your shoulders in surrender, gave him a final look up and down, before turning to start stripping yourself.

One after the other, clothes hit the floor in separate piles, and as the water rushed from the faucet on the side of the bath, you perched on the edge of the basin tub in your underthings and chanced a glance at your lover.

His torso, while you’d certainly _felt_ it, was _covered_ in scars you hadn’t seen. They were rough, jagged, and dark; a lot of which looked as if there were ripped-off portions of flesh that had been torn away before healing.

It was monstrous.

It was painful.

_It was beautiful._

Your eyes followed the curve of his shoulders as the button-up hit the floor, the fluff of his ears and tail making an appearance as his pants were soon to follow.

_Does he not-_

You had to suck in a silent breath and turn rapidly to face the bath that was quickly growing tall with blood-red water and bright pink bubbles.

There was the sound of footsteps, and you chanced a glance upwards- _you were not crude-_ to his face to see his previously hesitant expression had gone, and he was watching you with narrowed, relaxed eyes.

He knelt down quietly next to the tub, dipped his hand into the nearly scalding water and made a soft noise of approval before sliding his eyes to you.

“See something you like?” he asked.

You had no words.

You bobbed your head up and down a few times before swallowing a thick gulp of saliva and turning to unhook the clasps of your bra.

You felt claws on your back and froze solid, feeling the sharp points scraping lightly against your skin as he undid the three tiny hooks and let the straps go.

 _“Heh-heh,”_ you laughed awkwardly as you pried it off your arms, bending over quickly to pull off your underwear and letting them flutter to the pile with a toss before turning to put a foot in the bath. It was a touch away from scalding. Perfect.

Alastor’s hand took hold of your’s as you stepped forward, helping you balance as you lowered yourself into the crimson water and blush bubbles and sank _deep_ down.

Alastor eyed you for a moment before stepping in, watching the way your head was carefully above the water but your eyes stayed locked on the still-rushing faucet.

He stepped inside, and the water rose. He was briefly thankful for the deep walls of the tub, slowly sinking down until he could relax against the higher of the two ledges.

You had to sit up a tad as the water rose, and as you glanced forward to see him sitting, you caught a flash of red creeping up his hips before they disappeared into the murky liquid and had to beat back your inner thirsty bitch.

_Fuuuuuuck.. This was a bad idea.._

And by the smug smile he was shooting at you now, leaning back with his elbows hooked on the edges and his hands hanging down toward the water, he knew _exactly_ what he looked like and had a pretty good idea of what it was doing to you.

_Fuuuuuuck._

You reached out after a few minutes to turn off the water, leaving it at a safe height not to splash out of the tub if you were to move too quickly, but deep enough to cover up to both of your chests in the high-rise tub.

You leaned back against the dip on your side, biting your lip and using your fingers to poke patterns into the bubbles.

After a moment, he snapped his fingers, and you chuckled faintly as soft jazz filled the room, clearly at low volume for the benefit of relaxation.

“Classy,” you smiled.

“Naturally.”

* * *

* * *

“If I had any doubts of your demonic nature,” you purred, leaning back into his fingers almost impatiently as he scratched and lathered the soap into your hair and scalp. “They would be put to rest.. This is positively _sinful_.”

“I’m glad you appreciate the effort,” he chuckled, carefully tugging and digging his fingers into the thick mess of blue curls around your head and pouring down your back. For near ten minutes he simply ran his fingers through it, working away any tangles before they could set and spreading the conditioner thoroughly into each portion, not a single lock of hair to be missed. Every so often, he would scrape his nails down along your scalp, slow but firm, and sending you into a low fit of pleasurable keening. It was a delightful sound, but he had no intention of getting too involved in a _bathroom_ of all places. Once he'd rinsed away the last of the soap, and you settled back against his chest, eyes shut to relax in the humid air of the bathroom, Alastor began to gentle process of tracing the imprints and lines in your open palms, your hands looking far, _far_ smaller than his own and highlighting the fragility between yourselves. Sensing the subtle turn to his mood, you blurted the first thing that came to mind.

“Do you want me to stay facing away from you,” you asked calmly.

“Are you tempted to turn around?” He sounded faintly surprised, if a touch embarrassed, the record skip making your smile reappear almost instantly

“I want to wash your back,” you shrugged, turning to glance at him with an impish smile, “Maybe clean behind your ears..?”

He scoffed, reached forward and ran his thumb down the length of your neck, dragging it slowly down the length of your spine until you shivered harshly.

“ **Behave** , _mon amour.._ ”

“I’d say you’re no fun, but that would be a lie,” you sighed, blowing a stack of bubbles from in front of you before reaching backwards with childish grabby hands. “Can I still wash your ears, though?”

“You were serious?”

“I will _always_ be serious about touching your fluffy bits.”

His laugh, as it always has been, was music to your ears.

_"Ahahahahahaha-!”_

* * *

**YES-! I timed it right-!**

**For those who guessed- It is my BIRTHDAY so as a shared gift I'm providing you with an extra chapter and a drawing I've been saving for this EXPRESS purpose from our lovely, _wonderful_ artist friend kadieBlue-! you know where to look for her info, next to mine in the notes AND in the description-!**

**That's all for now. I'm going to spend my first day as a 21-year-old getting some sleep, going to work and contemplating the size of the universe.**

**Ciao~**

**Pistol Out**


	29. The Jordan Experience

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bit of a shorter chapter to counter the surprise from Tuesday. :)

“No.”

You threw a punch. He ducked, acid-colored hair streaking in a sharp arch downward.

“ _ But-” _

His leg came up for a kick but you leapt to the side to dodge. Your braid smacked against your neck and swung around to hit your chin but you were too focused to care.

“No,” you repeated. Your leg swung out, but he was diving for the floor before you could connect and getting to his feet as you hurried to throw a punch.

“But he would love to-” He shoved your punch away with the side of his arm and tried to throw his own.

“You’re not asking him,” you reasserted your opinion, cutting him off. “No.” You caught his punch, pushed it away, checked your stance and ducked a final punch. The muscles in his torso visibly tensed and you knew he was winding up for a kick.

“But Wisp-”

“ _ No-!” _

Alastor poked his head into the “dance room”, balking abruptly as he watched your entire body bend back without touching the floor and then pop back up in a turn so you could kick at the chest of your cousin. Reece rolled sharply out of the way of the kick and rushed to take a strike for your shoulder but you were faster with an angled duck-spin and turned until you were behind him mid-lunge to slam a foot into the back of his knee and ground him with a sharp elbow-jab to the center of his spine.

He hit the floor mats with a yelp, and you let out a heavy breath, sweat dripping from your hairline and staining the fabric of your grey sports bra as you planted a foot on the back of his shoulder blades and pressed down threateningly. “You are  _ not _ -”

You stopped talking when you noticed the open door, your already flushed face turning as red as his usual suitcoat.

“Hey, Honey Dearest,” you called awkwardly, increasing your weight on the boy beneath you and making him gasp painfully and dramatically. “What- uhh.. What brings you down here?”

“Miss Torie asked if we’d be interested in attending an outing to tour the city. She wanted to show me where you all grew up.” Alastor was eyeing the painfully pinned boy and the vision of you in a warrior’s stance.  _ He could imagine you planting your foot on a sinner’s corpse and the thought was not the least bit appropriate for mixed company. _

“Lovely,” you muttered, stepping off and away from the dramatically coughing Reece only to reach down, pick him up the collar of his white-but-sweat-slick karate-shirt and look him in the rapidly darting eyes. He did  _ not _ want to be on the receiving end of your temper but he’d pulled the short straw in his trine to be the distraction, soo..

“You are  _ so _ lucky you’re practically my brother,” you hissed.

“I am aware,” he gasped.

You let him hit the mats again, turning to get your towel and water bottle from the corner and turn off the subtle pop music you had playing in the background.

“I need a shower and a drink if this is going to happen,” you sighed, running a hand down your face and using your towel to wipe the sweat from your eyes. “I will  _ not _ revisit anything school-related  _ sober _ .”

“Soran promised to drive,” Reece called up, only to shut up quickly at the sharp, almost lethal look you sent him. He hurriedly mimed zipping his lips. “Shutting up.”

“Smart,” you nodded, walking up to Alastor and blowing him a kiss. “I’d kiss you for real but I’m sweaty, so.. Raincheck?”

“I’ll hold you to that,” he warned quietly. The tone was  _ just _ dark enough to give you a full-body shudder.

“Noted..”

* * *

“I hate everything about this,” you hissed mutinously as Alastor wound a long green scarf around your neck and shoulders. Nana was chuckling behind her hand in the doorway between the kitchen and the mudroom, a towel over her shoulder and her house-dress flecked in baking flour. She shook her head as she closed the door, leaving you in private so she could return to her cookies.

“We don’t  _ have _ to attend the tour, darling,” he reminded you softly, putting his hands onto your shoulders when you refused to look at him, choosing instead to glare murder into the vehicle of the day’s choice through the open garage door, a large black van with nine available seats and every one of them full save for two.

“You have a right to know about my childhood,” you sighed, leaning into his grip as you closed your eyes. “I know I’m being bratty, and I’m sorry..”

“Bratty, hmm?” 

You.. weren’t sure what that tone correlated with.

You looked up curiously as he pushed mittens onto your hands and finally shoved a hat over your head and ears.

“There,” he finished, smiling faintly as he tucked your blue hair into the big, loopy scarf. His hands settled on your shoulders and his smile was almost  _ painfully _ fond. “Nice and toasty.”

“Thank you, Daddy,” you drawled.

You made to walk toward the car, but Alastor’s grip on your shoulders was like iron, and you stopped before you could fall over from the unmoving force.

His smile looked.. Strained?

“P.. _ Pardon _ , dear?”

_ Oh, fuck.. _

“Slip of the tongue,” you assured him rapidly, already shaking your mitten-covered hands in front of yourself and shaking your head. “I’m sorry if I made you uncomfortable..”

“Why does it..?” he muttered weakly, lifting a hand to palm his face and drag it down in mild exasperation. His entire face was  _ pink _ .

“Did you..  _ Like _ that I called you that?” you asked softly.

He froze, let go of your remaining shoulder as if it had burned him and stood tall and straight with his ever-present grin and his eyes mostly shut. “I do believe we’re keeping up the crowd-! Shall we go to claim our seats? I must say, this  _ entire _ idea was incredibly riveting-! I just can’t wait to see where my darling has grown up-!”

“You’re not helping your case,” you sighed, smiling faintly behind your scarf as you followed him out to the car. You sat in the middle next to CJ, who  _ refused _ to return to the highschool anytime soon but would  _ gladly _ visit the  _ other _ old stomping grounds around town. Alastor sat on your other side so he had free access to the door and no one else touching him. 

Double plus, really.

“Welcome to the scenic tour, aptly named  _ The Jordan Experience _ . For the first half of the tour, we will be providing drive-by commentary to entertain,” Torie’s voice was sugar-sweet and much like an air-stewardess as she spoke into a  _ legitimate _ speaker on a spiral cord that connected to the van’s rather old sound system.

It felt like the world’s worst and best tour-bus.

Your frown was having a hard time staying in place.

CJ, however, looked mortified on your other side and was continuously sending Alastor sympathetic looks. Said man was blinking rapidly at the crackle of the sound system and sitting straight-backed and zeroing eyes-out of the windows despite Soran just beginning to back out of the drive.  _ He couldn’t even look at you. _

“The second half is where we will take suggestions for afternoon entertainment. On your left, you will find the driveway that has seen many a scraped knee and dislocated shoulder..”

“One time-!” Reece complained.

“I’d  _ love _ to hear that story again,” you chuckled, features turning a tad dark as you glowered at your cousin. He gulped sharply at your attention, and shot a pleading look to his sister, who had an expression of ‘this is your bed, don’t make me lay in it’.

Alastor quirked an eyebrow up at your curious tone, and nodded faintly to the grin Torie was sporting. “It sounds a tizzy, dear-! I’d love to hear it as well.”

“Acid Pop here,” Torie jabbed her elbow into Reece’s bruised rib without meaning, and offered him a quickly but sincerely mouthed apology before continuing, half-turning in her front bench-seat to face Alastor. “-Decided when he was twelve that he would try Kung-Fu on wheels. He wanted to be the first-ever kid to master Kung-Fu on roller skates, but the doofus seemed to have forgotten that he lived on a  _ mild hill. _ ”

Chrys cackled from the back seat and you shot her a glance, mildly surprised to see Genevieve and Persephone perched in the center and rightmost seats. Both were looking at you with curious expressions, though Genevieve was sliding a confused glance between you and Alastor more so than Persephone was.

“And on your right is the tire swing, in which many an ankle has been sprained.”

“Twice-!” Chrys corrected. “And once was  _ totally _ on Jeremy Dunebury.”

“Gods, I  _ hated _ Jeremy growing up,” you complained, giving a very obvious shudder as you tugged your coat tighter around your frame. “He turned into such a slimeball in highschool..”

“It’s not as if he couldn’t afford a fuckin’ shower,” Chrys added with her own disgusted shudder.

Soran gagged, but kept driving otherwise silent.

“As you can see by the surrounding abodes,” Torie continued, ignoring the jabs at the slimeball who got a little too close for comfort to the Jordan girls in highschool. She hadn’t even met Reece until his first year of college. “This neighborhood is one of the more well-groomed areas. This is a gated community, folks, the real cream al lay crop.”

“Please don’t French,” Soran begged under his breath.

“So help me, I  _ will _ turn on Elvis Presley,” Reece threatened.

“I vote Presley-!” you shot your hand up sharply.

“I thought her attempt was rather charming,” Alastor smiled. “Though I have nothing too harsh to say of Mr Presley, himself.”

“Oh, but I do,” Torie scrunched up her nose and rolled her eyes before going back to her set task. “Coming up on your left is the exit of the gated community in which the Jordan family resides. Fun fact, it is quite inadvisable to drive full-speed at the gate if it is  _ closed _ , as it will cause massive damage to any vehicle attempting such feats within the realm of Hummers and under.”

“Fun Fact,” Genevieve repeated.

“Believe it or not, this is only going to get more graphic the further we get into town,” you offered absently over your shoulder.

The look of mild horror on the faces of both girls should have made you at least a tad concerned, but you really weren’t.

* * *

“That’s the roller rink where Skit punched an older boy in the face for trying to trip her at a class skating party.”

Alastor had his eyebrows as high as they were able to go on his forehead.

“Miss  _ Skit _ , you say?”

“Oh yeah, her right hook is  _ mean _ ,” you grinned. Torie only nodded along to confirm your statement while CJ rubbed at her jaw in phantom pain. Sparring each other was a bitch sometimes. Skit was  _ vicious _ .

* * *

“There’s the park where Wisteria almost burnt down a church assembly fair confessional house.”

You sighed in remembrance, a nostalgic smile on your face as the horror behind you continued to grow. Chrys could only nod faintly when the girls looked to her desperately for any sort of indication that Torie was fucking around.

News Flash.

_ She wasn’t. _

She was kind of understating a  _ lot _ to keep you, in her mind, looking like a perfectly sane adult in  _ Alastor’s _ mind.

_ Little did she know, with every new tidbit of information, he was falling a little more in love with you. _

* * *

“Hey, it’s the building we vandalized in middle-school-!” You cheered, pointing out a carved-out building Torie seemed to have not been informed about. “Gods, how much do you wanna bet they left the mattress in the attic?”

“...How the fuck did we even get it in there in the first place?” Soran asked suddenly.

“I.. don’t remember,” you murmured, sounding mildly put-off as you glared at the boarded up windows.

Alastor was  _ beaming. _

This was amazing-!

* * *

“Hey, was it Belle or Aurora who lit the firecracker that broke that window?” Reece asked as they suddenly passed a building that looked to be recently turned into an art gallery.

“Aurora,” you answered without hesitation. “She was in braids that day.. Belle hates having her hair in braids.”

* * *

“How many times did we ding-dong ditch this asshole?” Chrys asked abruptly as you coasted through another hoity-toity neighborhood to demonstrate where Aunt and Uncle Dawne lived.

The house she was referring to had a large number of shrubs, now, and a rather tall fence with cameras pointed severely in the corners.

“Fuck, I think we turned him paranoid,” you cackled.

“He was a dick,” Reece defended himself at the unamused looks of his trine. “He kicked his dog-!”

And suddenly they looked a lot more understanding.

Alastor had a rather fond expression on his face as he looked at you, looking besotted with your cackling, and while Chrys had full view of this and was silently taking pictures and video for keepsakes later, Genevieve and Persephone were at a loss on how to go through with the “plan” their mother tried to walk them through.

It didn’t seem like they’d even have a chance to  _ talk _ to the man, let alone  _ seduce _ him.

_ And he looked pretty happy now, in Persephone’s private opinion.. _

* * *

“Do you remember that time Bobby Williams threw up-”

“-In the community pool after eating half of that birthday cake,” you finished with a disgusted shudder. “I never stepped foot in that place again.”

“Maybe  _ Reece _ should be giving this tour,” Torie sniffed in a light, haughty-sounding way and held out the trucker-radio-mic-esque device. “Because he  _ clearly _ has more interesting things to mention than I do.”

“Come on, babes, I have to have  _ some _ mystery,” Reece pouted.

“Hey look-!” you laughed, pointing out the window on CJ’s side. “It’s the Ice-cream shop where-”

_ “ Uncle Justin met Tony Hawk-!”  _ Everyone save for Alastor, Genevieve and Persephone cheered.

Clearly it had been a family-shared story.

“He still has that picture framed on the mantle,” CJ offered as you drove past, waving nostalgically.

* * *

“Was it fifteen or sixteen seconds that Gramps stayed on that bull?” you asked suddenly, feeling agitated that you’d forgotten.

“Eighteen,” Reece corrected absently, working on the paper protecting his slushy-scoop straw. You had all picked up drinks at a Shell and moved to coast through the fairgrounds, where, while there were no attractions or tents at present, you all had a decent memory of where everything sat and the many,  _ many _ incidents that happened upon those trips.

“I think his marine buddy stayed on sixteen,” CJ offered at your obvious sulking. You hated underestimating Grandpa and it showed.

Alastor wound an arm around your waist and sipped his bottled tea, simply enjoying the sight of lush fields of snow and the stories that the family would rattle off at the slightest glance toward something familiar.

It was..

_ Calming.. _

_ Nice.. _

* * *

_ “Pull over pull over pull over-!” _ you cheered.

You scrambled to leap over Alastor’s lap as the car came to a stop, bolting across the fresh snow and onto the rickety playground until you could dart into the long and hollow concrete tube that was left at least sixty years ago to be vandalized, repainted, and vandalized again until the city had had enough and just left it be.

You were aware of the sound of following footsteps, and the hushed complaints of Brooke’s girls about the snow in their shoes, but you were dragging your fingers along the tags, trying to find a few specific ones.

Alastor joined you after a moment, having to duck into the surprisingly narrow space a bit and crouch a bit behind you to keep pace.

Finally, about twenty feet into the fifty-foot monstrosity, you put your palm over the harsh blue spray paint on the wall, fingers splayed wide and your breathing steady.

“Hey, our tags are still up,” Reece whistled, pulling Soran and Torie close to look at the small jumble of names in various jagged fonts. Even CJ had participated, without Nana’s knowledge, in writing her name in bright pink letters. Skit had been far too little and CJ had barely been able to hold the can even with Reece’s help.

_ WISP _

_ CHRYS _ and she ran out of space...

_ REECES _

_ CJACKS _

Alastor’s hand hesitantly reached out to cover yours, and your breath, coming in soft puffs of grey steam, filled the space between you as you turned to glance at him, saw him so close, and simply stared.

_ It was so weird seeing him in human form.. _

“We painted these on the day our mothers went to prison,” you admit softly, turning back to the tag to drag your joined hands down the sharp, jagged rush of the blue W. “We marked the first day our lives began as free human beings.. It was incredibly liberating..”

“You had to talk us into it,” Reece scoffed, holding his lovers close and absently running his fingers through Soran’s short cropped hair. “The only reason we even had the paint to do it was because there were already some punks here tagging..”

“Still can’t believe you talked them into letting us use their spray,” Chrys scoffed, thumbing at her own name with a small smile. “They thought it was a sob story at first, didn’t they?”

“Until they remembered about the newspaper article with our picture in it,” you nodded.

“Whatever happened to those punks?” CJ asked casually.

“Well, Turner shaped up to be a pretty good lawyer,” Chrys chuckled, “And Anderson and Jorkins rode off into the sunset to follow their dreams of being professional baseball stars.”

“They’re in Minor League,” Reece chuckled. “And Fefe sells car insurance.”

* * *

You and Alastor were settled on the balcony of the second floor, bundled up in the thick galaxy comforter of your bed and holding mugs of steaming tea in his case, and hot chocolate in yours. The house was alive with loud laughter, energetic children and bright yellow light spilling from the windows and into the night. Cuddled in Alastor’s lap was the very same fat white cat he’d seen a painting of in the downstairs hall, the feline making begging noises to be let out with you both and away from the grabby hands of the young children.

Alastor had taken to Lilith like a house on fire and had made some comment about Hell royalty under his breath before falling half in love with the fat white cat that chose to perk up from your own lap, waddle over to his and plop down to continue napping.

You were  _ far _ from offended, and had taken to snapping several photos with your phone before tucking it away again.

Your head was tucked up against his shoulder and neck, snuggled in his lap with his arms around you to help hold both of the drinks steady as you looked up to the sky. The light pollution kind of distracted from the brilliance the stars usually displayed in rural areas, but it was still incredibly beautiful to see the glittering sky above the snow-capped trees and look at the reflection it made upon the lake.

You didn’t speak for a while, the blanket and his magic kept you warm as you simply breathed in the night air and enjoyed each other’s company.

“Do you ever think about how big the universe is?” you asked softly.

Alastor huffed, tilting his chin until his lips could press against the side of your temple. “My dear, you wonder enough of that for the both of us.. The only world I concern myself with is the one I can hold in both hands.”

You were confused, tilting your head back to look up at him. “Both hands? But.. there are  _ billions _ of lightyears worth of..”

The mugs were transferred into both of your hands as you spoke, but before you could get another word out, your face was cupped and turned to face him.

“..Oh,” you whispered.

He grinned.

“Charming fucker,” you muttered, lifting up one of the mugs to take a sip and blanching as your nose scrunched. “Ackh-  _ tea _ . Was not expecting that.”

He laughed softly to take his drink back, but his lips covered yours softly with a flutter of his tongue before he pulled back with a wink. “I taste nothing wrong..”

_ “ Charming fucker. _ ”

* * *

**A bit more self indulgence.. See the process of some of my pieces on my Instagram. Big thanks once again to kadieBlue for helping with Al's outline. You're guaranteed to find her info in the description of the story and at the bottom of the Notes.**

****


	30. First Taste (NSFW warning halfway down)

Alastor blinked down at the small horde of women in front of him, Miss CJ, Miss Aurora, Miss Belle, Miss Torie and the crowd lead by Miss Chrysanthemum poised in front of him and blocking him from the basement with their arms crossed over their chests.

He’d never felt more intimidated in _either_ of his _lives._

_It was like looking at two and a half Rosie’s._

“Ladies,” he beamed, carefully hiding the unease he was feeling at the serious expressions the women shared. “What can I do for you? I was just on my way to let my darling know of the time.. Our reservations for dinner are in a few hours-”

“We know,” Chrys waved off his statement with a loose wrist. “We have something for you. Skit and Jasmine have her detained for now, but if this is going to work, you’re going to have to work with us.”

“..What?” he blinked.

Chrys sighed, sounding as if the entire world’s weight had settled onto her shoulders.

“We’re going to _educate_ you on what the best step to impress my twin is.”

 _Ahh.._ Alastor felt the demon form within him shrinking back slightly as the woman began _herding_ him toward the bedroom of CJ up the staircase and in the center of the hall. _I am in trouble.._

_This is likely going to end poorly._

* * *

_'Must you keep braiding it?’_

You signed the words absently, but you wouldn’t begrudge your cousin of her delight in doing your hair for your date. And she _was_ really good at hair, you wouldn’t lie. It was looking a little Daenerys Targaryen-y, but with the rich blue color of it and the color of your contacts, you thought you looked rather badass.

 _‘You have to look awesome,’_ Skit argued wordlessly after pausing with the last bobby pin she had between her fingers. ‘ _Perfect.’_

And it _was_ perfect, you noticed, standing up from the bench and twirling in the view of the vanity mirror. Your dress was sitting on her bed and the boots on the floor beneath it, so for now you were just in a bathrobe.

Even in a bathrobe, however, you looked fierce with the crossed and twisted bunch of braids and the lush waterfall of hair pouring down your back.

 _'_ _Good job_ ,’ you signed enthusiastically, quickly moving to put on the dress when you noticed the time. You wanted to have _at least_ ten minutes of breathing room for your reservation, in case of any mishaps, so you’d be leaving in about twenty minutes or so.

Skit settled at the vanity as Jasmine zipped the back of the chiffon and lace number up.

The dress was tea-length, falling just above your knees, with several thin layers of black chiffon fluttering down your legs. Your upper bodice was done with a heavy amount of thick lace, spidering elegantly up around your shoulders and throat like a mock-turtleneck and snaking down your arms to your knuckles. On your legs was a knit pair of thigh-high stockings in slate grey and the shoes were warm black boots with just a _tiny_ bit of heel.

Your purse for the night was just a white clutch, so you had the perfect place to put it in the pocket of your white tea-coat with the glassy black buttons.

Skit paused you before you could leave the room, tugging you down to her level so she could pin something up into your hair. A glance at the mirror showed a white gardenia hair pin.

 _"Thank you_ ,” you mouthed and signed the words simultaneously, before pulling the girls into a tight hug and pressing a kiss to each of their foreheads. ‘ _I have to go now. Talk tomorrow_?’

The girls nodded, and you gently shut the door behind you and turned to meet Al in the kitchen, only to come to a jagged halt at the set of figures standing in the hallway, partially blocking your path. The whispers they were giving to one another halted abruptly, and you raised an eyebrow when Genevieve’s jaw went slack, her eyes _glaring_ at the flutter of your dress and the expensive white coat over your arm.

“Where are you off to?” Brooke’s voice was far more pleasant than her face, her nose scrunched up as if she smelled something foul and her eyes slightly squinted at your hair.

She was too mean for her pretty face.

You didn’t even care.

“Date night,” you shrugged, casually shifting the coat to one arm to free up your dominant right hand, not above throwing a punch if one was thrown at you, first. Family, shmamly, you hated this bitch.

“With Allen?” Genevieve asked quickly. The twenty-one-year-old looked like she was _furious_.

Your eyebrows raised slowly, and you gently nodded your head. “Uh, _yeah_ .. _Obviously.._ Could you move? I’m going to be late.”

“Where’d you get that dress?” Brooke asked, shifting her weight on her feet and avidly pretending she hadn’t heard your request/ _order_ , “It looks a bit pricey. Did Lenore buy it for you? Genny’s been looking for one just like it.”

“ _I_ bought it,” you interrupted sternly, “Nana hasn’t bought me clothes in _years_. Now, if you wouldn’t mind-”

You moved to take a few steps forward, but the women were blocking you in, and you knew this could only end badly for you.

Nana was going to be _so_ disappointed.

“Oh _Wiiiisp_ ~”

_Then again, maybe not._

Your cold expression melted into warm delight at the voice of your strawberry-haired twin, throwing the two girls off when they’d jumped at the call, clearly knowing they were doing something they shouldn’t be.

You tilted your head to the side, feeling the coat threatening to slip from your arm as you watched a pair of shiny black shoes walk down the floor followed by several sets of slippers.

_Oh, fuck.._

_You were screwed._

You could have _whimpered_ when Alastor made it to the bottom of the landing, Chrys, CJ, Aurora and Belle all fluttering behind him with matching shit-eating grins on their faces.

 _Those backstabbing_ **_traitors!_ **

_How_ **_dare_ ** _they make your snack boyfriend too sexy to stare at-?!_

Granted it was _slightly_ better to deal with seeing as he looked _human,_ but..

_Fuuuuuuck, it was still pretty hot.._

Alastor was wearing a slate grey turtleneck in a fine knit, with a black suit jacket fitted around him and a single button clasped over his sternum. He wore matching black slacks, and his shoes gave off an inviting gleam as he used his hand to push the gelled-back curls out of his face. Even his _glasses_ looked hot- _like what the fuck-?! It’s not fair-?!_

“Do I need to bring a baseball bat to force back the women who try to touch you?” you asked firmly, your voice was strained, but by the taken-aback _awe_ on his face, he seemed to have taken you in just as you had to him.

You forced your way through the women blocking you, making Genevieve splutter something intelligible and Brooke just _gape_ at your meal of a man. Alastor was quick to meet you halfway, but before you could reach out to feel the fabric of his jacket, his hand had scooped yours up, and he had bent low to bring his lips to your knuckles.

“Darling,” he whispered, his smile sultry with a quick wink.

_FUCK._

“ _God Dammit you son of a wonderful woman, you fluster me on purpose-!”_ your hackles were rising and your face was burning and you grit your teeth as the girls on the stairs cackled quietly into their hands. _HOW_ **_DARE_ ** _THEY BRING YOUR KINKS TO DATE NIGHT-?!_

“You look beautiful,” he murmured, pressing a final kiss to your hand before bringing it to his arm, already guiding you toward the kitchen. “We best say our farewells, hm? We don’t want to miss the reservations.”

 _“ _Y_ ou _ are driving,” you growled, the words forced from the deepest portion of your throat.

Alastor, thankfully, knew you well enough by now that you were _indeed_ not furious but _painfully_ turned on.

It was a bit ego boosting, he wasn’t going to lie..

Before you were out of sight, you shot the deadliest glare you could muster at the stairwell, inwardly delighting in the yelps of fear, though Chrys merely stuck out her tongue and mimed a very crude gesture of her intentions.

_Seemed even she knew when your dry spell was dangerous to others.._

You hugged Nana tight before you left, giving Torie one as well, as she was helping Gramps cook dinner, and made sure to squeeze George and Brian extra tight in place of punishment for snickering at the entire situation. The petite blonde sent you a teasing wave as you were pulling out of the garage, and while you subtly flipped him off as Alastor watched the back window, you knew you’d be cooled off enough by the time you got home that you’d be over it.

You could never stay mad at George.

The drive to the restaurant, a four-star place you’d booked in September and managed to get a decent placing for the holiday season, was rather quiet. You managed to reign in your raging hormones, taking great pains to focus on your breathing and mostly staring at his face to desensitize yourself.

It was working. _Barely._

You still felt the strong desire to lean across the console and lick the side of his face, but _literal decades_ of practice in self-control allowed you to persevere in your stiff, smiling silence.

Alastor opened the door for you, handing the keys off to the valet and tucking the ticket expertly into the inside pocket of his blazer. Which brought your eyes to his clothes again. Which renewed the urge to _lick him, fuck this was going to suck._

He led you in on his arm, and you were careful to keep your steps matched with his longer strides.

“Reservation for Jordan,” your words were lowered to the appropriate volume once you’d reached the podium, where a serving girl stood in a tucked white button-up, black slacks and a matching tie with a silver pin, her jaw slack as she stared at Alastor.

_Not shocking, or unexpected, but still._

You cleared your throat, and with a glance up at Alastor, where you were minorly surprised to see him already looking at you, and for a while if the fond, curiously confused air of his smile was anything to go by.

_Gods, you loved this man._

“Reservation for _Jordan_ ,” you emphasized, a bit more firmly this time. The young lady cleared her throat, apologized under her breath and rushed to pluck up two menus and lead you past the podium and into the restaurant itself with a slight bow at her waist.

“This way, please..”

You passed dozens of circular tables, some filled with four or more people, but a lot of them couples. Everyone was dressed to the nines, drinking from champagne flutes, wine glasses and bourbon glasses. Alastor held out your seat for you, and the coat you’d worn was folded and given politely to a young man who’d broken away from a discreet coatroom to take your jackets. You kept your clutch tucked between you and the chair.

It was a little less impossible to deal with Alastor with the jacket off, but with the loss of jacket came the sight of his lean, but muscled build kept modest in the turtle-neck. It was not loose, and it was giving you a very good idea of his torso’s shaping.

_Ugh.. is it bad that you preferred his demon body..?_

Oh well, the human form made it easier to deal with, still.

You both settled for steak and Alastor ordered the wine.

You let out a long, content sigh as it was poured, taking your time to enjoy the fragrance as Alastor often did before taking the first delicious sip.

“I don’t recall if I’ve mentioned,” Alastor called out across the table, which left a good five feet of space between you. He didn’t look like he appreciated the distance, but elegant restaurants provided elegant furniture and presentation. “But you look beautiful tonight, darling.”

“Thank you,” you nodded, a smile tugging at the corner of your mouth as you waited for him to finish sipping his wine. _No need to make him spit it out._ “Looks like the girls got a hold of you, didn’t they?”

He jolted a little, confirming that he would have done a spit-take at the resigned amusement on your face and in your voice.

“They.. relayed that this outfit would be more to your tastes,” he admit after a moment of silently clearing his throat. “I admit, it’s not my usual style, but they assured me you found the style to be-”

“Totally and completely ovary murdering?” You cut him off, mildly deadpanned and enjoying the inward breath he took that turned into a half-cough. “You have absolutely _no_ idea about how badly I want to flip this table and sit on your lap. It’s almost _indecent_ the amount of control I’m having to hold against my own _hips_ , _Darling Dearest_..”

Alastor’s face, usually so unflappable and brightly smiling, was as pink as a fresh plucked dragon fruit.

_Adorable._

“You look good enough to lay on this table and _eat_ ,” you lowered your voice to the end, and grinning impishly as a waiter passed by the table without a thought to what you might be discussing.

Alastor looked like he was about to have a stroke, his smile strained and his fingers tapping at the table at a speed no human would be able to elegantly replicate.

“I could most _certainly_ say the same,” the words were nearly _growled_ across the table, and you rewarded your clever tease with a long drink of your wine.

_Life was good._

* * *

After dinner the both of you got back into the car. You were confident in yourself not to pull over and _eat_ him anytime soon, so you tucked yourself into the driver’s seat with an emphatic “There’s a few more places we didn’t visit on the tour. You’ll like these, and the stories they have, I think.”

Alastor wisely sat into the shotgun with a beaming smile and nothing to say against you.

Twenty-five minutes after leaving the restaurant, you came to a park a little ways outside of the city limits of Blythemere. Back in the 1920’s, there had been a massive spike in the output of iron, before it rapidly dried up the year after. There were _tons_ of abandoned mines blocked off and banned from children, and a few more the city either forgot about, or left alone for cultural recognition.

The one you’d brought Alastor to was one they’d forgotten about, situated _far_ back in the forestry of the park and behind a good dozen haphazardly boarded-up planks.

Alastor looped his arm with yours as you took him into the almost pitch-black forest, the moon holding little light over the trees and their bare branches in it’s waning crescent shape.

“Through here,” you were holding his hand tightly as you brought him through the mine entrance, barely having to duck down to get beneath the half-assed boards and waiting with an impish smile when Alstor had to stoop low enough to nearly scrape his knees on the ground to get through. He didn’t look amused, but his smile was still warm.

“Think you can give us some light?”

Your sweetly-asked question was answered with a roll of his eyes and a snap of his fingers, bright orange-yellow balls of electricity and spirit-shaped masses bobbing up and around the both of you in a fun little dance before settling on the ground.

You gasped brightly, hands on your cheeks and your smile almost _painfully_ wide. “Patchwork friends-! You glow too-?!”

They chittered softly in delight at your excitement, and you hurried to pick one up and cuddle it before reaching out a hand to drag Alastor, and now the glowing spirit in your arms, further into the abandoned mine.

“There’s a path to the left of here, and if you walk for long enough..”

The shaft had several entrances, emergency ones made in a fit of paranoia by that particular mining supervisor. The insides and been reinforced thrice over and there had been maps carved into almost every turn or entrance. It made it double-y safe and the only reason Reece didn’t refuse to come in when you wanted to explore.

For about eight minutes, Alastor’s soft humming accompanied the hurried tap-tap of your boots as you hustled through the mine.

Two turns, one further left and one to the far right of three. Five more minutes straight and-

The both of you exit the mine, and Alastor let out a startled, surprised breath.

You’d gotten so far into the mine that you’d come upwards out the other side on an Eastern entrance-exit. There were no boards there, being as it was more overgrown than anything with dried branches which would be flush with leaves and flowers in the summertime.

You pushed aside the natural curtain and settled next to Alastor’s side, looking over the white-washed expanse of the massive glittering city on the other side’s edge of a _giant_ glittering lake.

“Like it?” you whispered.

He hummed, fingers catching and curling into the fabric of your dress on your hip, pulling you close and tight as you looked out over the view.

You felt him shift beside you, turning your head up to see him with his chin tilted down, his eyes already settled on your face and his eyelids drooping low over his warm mahogany irises.

“I’ve never seen anything more beautiful in my entire existence,” he murmured. The words were so immediate, spoken so confidently that you could do nothing but believe them in their entirety.

_Please God.._

_Let this moment last?_

* * *

“It’s the last place tonight, I promise,” you assured him, threading your free hand’s fingers through his as you drove back towards the family cabin. Alastor’s expression seemed confused, despite his relaxed smile, but it became far more excited when you parked the car in the overstuffed driveway, took his hand and started to jog with him _away_ from the house and to the far, far left of the large property line, where a good five trees were lifted and grown out of the ground.

A lot of the branches had been cut and continuously sanded over the years, making space for a large, modern-looking tree house with a lifting spiral staircase in place of a ladder. Your grandparents had started the thing when their three children were young, and over the years it had been added to, decorated, redecorated and fit with enough to act as a bathroom-less tiny-house.

There was heating and cooling, as well as a lounge with a nice couch and a therapist-like settee. 

A cooler and a cabinet to hold snacks, and a large, low thimble-shaped table for drunken card games every New Years.

_Not that Gramps and Nana knew you drank before being legal, or if they did, they never mentioned it._

Your target was the couch, and you felt along the edges, tossing the throw pillows to the side before unravelling it with a pull. Alastor chuckled when you threw a pillow at him, moving to one of the other cabinets to pick out your preferred sheets.

“Turn on the heaters, would you?”

He looked around the room to find the standing heaters, all run on the stored energy given from the solar panels attached to the roof of not only the treehouse, but the shed down far below. Warm air began rushing through the twelve-by-fourteen space, and you let out a pleased sigh and peeled off your coat before you began fitting the sheets onto the bed. You flopped onto your back once it was finished, bouncing with the soft spring and giggling when Alastor joined you promptly, a pillow in hand tossed to the corner before he was winding an arm around your waist and yanking you up and over to sprawl across his chest.

Your giggles faded off into a gentle hum, and you nuzzled at the fabric on his chest before your fingers began drifting up his sides, the tips of each finger tingling in anticipation despite the severity you were using in holding your libido in check.

Warm hands drifted up and down your hips, fingertips ghosting at the tulle of the skirt and causing your smile to become far more sappy. Seemed he really _did_ like the dress. You’d had more than one thought or _five_ to try dressing like a lady from his era to see his reaction, but so far any vintage replicas or true antiques you’ve found have been either not your color, or too _great-grandma_ for consideration.

His breath was warm against your cheek, the hot air brushing down your neck from where you laid sprawled across him like a limp starfish. The condensation from his breath was quickly overshown by the warm, wet tongue that pressed to the pulse of your skin. Your fingers curled tighter into the fabric of the jacket, and you steadied your breathing as his plush, human lips slid down the side of your neck.

“Al..”

Your whisper gave him pause, and you felt the tension in his hands as they froze in the folds of your skirt. You lifted your eyes, seeing the warm cinnamon brown and frowning lightly to yourself as you struggled to pull one arm up at the awkward angle to push the bangs from his face.

“You don’t need to dress up like this for me,” the words were hushed in the shared space, and you could physically feel the stutter in his breath as his fingers curled tighter into the fabric, finding purchase in the firm muscle of your thighs.

The words meant more than the surface level they offered, and he was well enough of mind to know you hadn’t meant the turtleneck.

Piece by piece, you watched the guise flake away like dried mâché, peeling back and burning itself into non existence to be replaced by the stretched, broad-shouldered figure of your treasured paramour. Your nails traced down the length of the turtleneck, very much stretched to it’s limits, and you had to close your eyes because _fuck this was pushing your ability to not pounce.._ You licked your lips, mostly subconscious as you tried to center yourself back into your own body. The fabric was soft and stretched tight across his chest. You knew he was strong in the lean lines of muscle he sported, a lifetime passed living off of hunting and dragging it over his shoulders did wonders to add to his physique. 

Alastor shifted beneath you, his legs now _very much_ hanging over the odd end of the sofa as he settled his back at an angle to the plush cushions and arm rest, his arms effortlessly dragging you upwards with him so you were sprawled limply on his chest and lap, knees drawn up to either side of his hips and your cheek pressed to the center of his chest. If you shifted your head enough and closed your eyes, you could _just_ hear the rush of blood and heavy _thump-thump-thump_ of his heart.

Slowly, gradually, you felt the rhythm of his hands returning, the pads of his fingers and the tips of his claws felt intimately through the sheer fabric of the dress. Your chest felt weighed down by the sheer amount of _affection_ you could feel clogging your throat and weighing down your heart. It felt simultaneously as if you were being pinned to the ground with a heavy claw in your chest, while at the same time you were freefalling from a height far above the clouds.

Your cheek nuzzled deeper into his chest, but you were far from satisfied. Your fingers drifted up to curl around the material of the collar, once loose but now fit nearly perfectly around the base of his throat. The material stretched as you dragged it down, your knees and thighs carrying your weight and pressing into his splayed, searching palms as you lifted yourself up, lips pressing just softly to the side of his throat before you were peppering the entire space with small, wet kisses. Alastor’s breath stuttered beneath you, and something crossed between the groan of a man in pain and the growl of an excited predator echoed through his chest, still pressed so tightly to yours that you wondered off hand if you’d both made the sound together.

* * *

NSFW Warning Below, End will be marked with *** * ***

* * *

Alastor’s eyes closed and his breath left him in a weary hiss. He’d gone all night looking upon the woman he treasured above all else but his own mother. 

Warmth licked incessantly at the core of his chest, seeping lower and lower through his blood and zapping finite, electric impulses in every point of contact between himself and his lover. The tips of his claws snagged on the silky fabric of her skirt, his fingers curling tightly as he felt the soft, warm press of her tongue join her lips as she mouthed at his neck, the high neck-collar well and truly ruined as she stretched it down toward his collarbones.

He shuddered harshly as her teeth nipped at a particularly sensitive spot, his leg giving a jerk beneath her as he tried to keep himself from curling forward and burying himself in her scent.

The stifled moan of surprise was pressed against his throat so abruptly he’d wondered if he’d imagined it, his leg shifting to accommodate the woman sprawled over his lap, pressed firmly into the slot of his hips. Another moan, and he could not dismiss this one, the relaxed, languid smile on his face stretching with just the _barest_ hint of mischief as he breathed in _deeply._

The tang of arousal, something so utterly _human_ and _her_ had the glands in his mouth watering without hesitation, the hunger burning through his core something so _entirely_ different than his normal human-centered cravings.

With a shift of his hips, he was easily able to turn and deposit her on the mattress, soft black cotton warm where they’d been laying and providing a gentler material to cradle her back. He settled himself between her legs and leaned forward as carefully as he could manage to return the favor. His lips fluttered across her neck and nudged the lace of the top portion down, allowing him better, though still-restrictive access, to her soft skin; his hands drifting down to once again hold her thighs.

Her arms wound up and around his neck, fingers digging into the material of the sweater and gripping it hard enough to stretch against his back as he slowly, gradually began sucking at certain points upon her neck. The harsh shudder she gave when he’d brushed her pulsepoint, just to the right beneath her jaw, had a fluttering, breathy moan ghosting against his ear. The crimson-furred appendage twitched with the nonphysical contact, and he hummed thoughtfully against the soft skin above her pulse before breathing _in._

_Musk, sweetness, a floral array of mouthwatering temptation._

_He suspected the budding flower of the apple in Lucifer’s beginnings smelled just this way.._

His fingers curled, and he absently felt material between his claws before looking down in surprise to see the damage. Beneath each hand was a clearly mauled piece of sheer fabric, ripped clean through from his nails and leaving him access to see the knit of her stockings that reached up only to her thighs, leaving the soft, sun-tanned skin above it visible in the tears.

He shuddered in surprise, catching himself as he pulled his fingers away to apologize, finding the words failing him with her hands darted from his shoulders to grab his own and return them to her hips, pressing down until he could certainly feel the pressure leading to bruises if he wasn’t careful.

He searched her face for any sort of sign that this was out of turn, his red eyes, giving their usual glow of crimson, bringing the slightest ruby sheen to her body in the dim yellow lamplight from the corner of the room. The red splashed teasingly over her skin, fading only when he blinked to clear himself of any idea that this wasn’t real.

 _“Darling.._ ” he was astounded at the sheer _volume_ the word held, not in hearing, but in weight. It felt as if it weighed more than an anvil. The word had been choked from his throat as if wretched out by a chain.

The smile she gave him..

_Warm.._

_Heated.._

_Burning.._

Was..

_Divine.._

* * *

Alastor’s expression, paired with the slight tilt of his ears back, gave you the impression that a great beast had appeared in his place, hovering above you with glowing eyes and a jaw full of razor-sharp teeth, only shown through the gentle part of his lips, letting out the warm air that fluttered down to brush against your skin.

Your calf lifted up to rest on his hip, and you tilted your head back again as he descended upon your neck with a new, fevered intensity.

You could feel the plush of his lips as he pressed against the skin, hear the deep inhales of his breath paired with the ragged exhales that could better be labelled moans. You yourself were biting your bottom lip, not wanting to push him too far, not wanting to make him uncomfortable.

_Lord above, if you caused him to stop, you were certain you were going to lose your mind._

The moment between him simply holding your hips to ripping the shirt up was a hazy one, the barest rush of air against the skin of your upper thighs felt and the sudden tilt up of your hips as he wound his arms beneath them bringing you out of a warm, mushy-minded daze. Your entire body was four degrees below molten and you could feel the sweat gathering on your skin as you tensed your thighs to keep from grinding down, or, god forbid, _forward._

Alastor took the option from you, _thank god, really,_ by lifting one arm from beneath your hips to reach back up to grab the collar of your dress.

The lace ripped without issue. You could care less for the garment, when _this_ was hovering above you- stretched black cable-knit turtleneck and his skin below his jaw peppered with small bruises just visible in the dim light.

Your chest heaved as the cold-turned-bearable air rushed across your now uncovered skin, the flesh across your arms and shoulders rising with gooseflesh as the cold made the tips of your breasts pebble in an undeniably lewd way. Alastor’s eyes were locked with yours until you’d shuddered, his tongue flicking out to wet his bottom lip before he’d dragged his eyes _down, down_ to the revealed skin, skin he’d seen so often in your dresses, tank tops and swimsuits.

His tongue flashed across his lips again, and you could make out the slightest sheen of saliva on his lips as he bent his head, breathing in slowly and closing his eyes as they rolled back in his head.

The strangled noise he made was the furthest thing from human, and it made the heat in your core tighten both reflexively and near painfully. The whimper that left your mouth was the furthest thing from confident, but at this point, you were willing to throw yourself open like a starfish in submission, if even just for a single, chaste kiss.

Thankfully, anything _chaste_ was the furthest thing from Alastor’s mind.

His lips pressed into yours, once, twice, then tracing down, following the line of your jaw and clicking your neck with a brush of his tongue before descending on your collarbones. You could feel the echo of bruises he’d put there, though they’d long since disappeared for outfit reasons, so the sudden nips against the skin felt ultra sensitive, and the startled hums you made as he lapped at the skin like a savory _lollipop_ was nothing short of genuine.

Your hips canted up as his tongue brushed across the edge of your left nipple, seemingly by accident, only to pause, then burrow down to nuzzle between them like a contented cat.

_You swore to god if he repeated what he did in the woods you were going to go spare and lock him out of the bedroom for six hours._

Thankfully for your sanity, he was quick to continue his explorations, peppering gentle, wet kisses across the skin of each before settling on the left and pulling the very tip of it into his mouth, giving it the slightest, curious suck.

Your hips bucked up sharply, the noise leaving your lips as stars crossed your eyes, that sudden image of _sharpteethnearyourbreastsoeasytobreakskin-_

His arm still beneath your lifted hips was now holding you in place, and you whimpered as it became more firm and shifted you up the bed, the back of your shoulders now resting on what was the bed’s armrest with your elbow jammed uselessly in the pillow you’d shoved in the corner. Alastor’s teeth did not make an appearance, and despite the brief thought of bargaining for _next time,_ if you were so lucky, you were suddenly brought back to the pleasant moment by the attention he paid in equal turn to your other breast.

Your hips jumped up as his breathing deepened, the warm breath against your already heated skin making you want to do nothing more than squirm until you could force yourself into something _harderfrictionneedit_ **_now-_ **

The heel of his palm, which had been braced on the bed to keep him aloft, but had been removed in favor of a shift of his knees on the bed for balance, pressed suddenly and firmly into the very core of you, his entire palm completely covering the area of your mouth and providing _exactly_ what you needed to get off.

The position and actions were new, but you would welcome anything he thought he was ready for. In fact, you were _salivating_ for it.

You swallowed the mouthful of drool threatening to leave your lips, feeling your mind go blank and your eyes roll back as he began turning and pressing his palm down, waking quarter turns with his wrist and _ever so lightly_ dusting the skin with his nails and he pressed you both up in the air and down.

You could feel the beginnings of an orgasm coming upon you, slow but surely, the tightening of your thighs and the shudders wracking your shoulders and the numbness of your fingers as he continued to press his kisses _down down down-_

When his hand pulled away, you were not ashamed to say that you cried out. In frustration, in blissful, burning agony.. _In love_ .. You knew if he said he wasn’t ready, even if you were right at that peak- _if he said no-_

You would drop everything.

You would hate it, but you would. His comfort wasn’t something you were willing to deny-

Static, plain and pure, filled your mind as a burning hot, wet muscle arched sharply against the quite damp, _read soaked_ , material of your lacy black thong. The lace provided little resistance to the burning damp wetness which, _you looked down,_ was apparently saliva.

You could have come on the spot had you been anymore gone.

Your hips bucked as you met his eyes, burning red gems snapping up to meet your gleaming yellow ones, seeming to glow brighter in the golden light of the lamp. Your hair was a mess and your dressed was ripped entirely down the front and you were sweaty and he was _burying his face in your cunt holy fuck-_

You keened, loud and long, as he pressed his face deeper between your thighs, the scratch of soft wool against the very backs of your thighs drowned out by the sudden, insistent motion of his tongue pressing against the lacy black fabric and dragging up and down, as if savoring a particularly favorable dish. His eyes shut, and you were hardly prepared for his tongue to press the lace aside, _without the use of his hands, fuck that was hot_ \- to get a direct taste of your arousal from the source.

You could feel the scream as it caught in your throat, the sudden rush of _almost there-_ ** _almosttheremoremoremore-_** accompanied by the brush of his mouth at the lips of your entrance on the long, slate grey _limb_ that was his _fucking tongue I can’t-_

Alastor’s breath, having been silent save for the occasional huff or murmur, now echoed indulgently about the room with warm, pleased sounds, the wet slurp of what was _surely_ a delightful _treat_ making you flush further as you felt your body reach it’s limit.

_One more one more please-_

You fingers, numb and useless as they were, filly forced themselves to bury into his hair between his ears, the bump of his cute little antlers lost as you tilted your hips up, forcing his tongue _just_ _so much deeper_ and _evaporated_.

The sudden, blinding white light filled your entire body as you tensed, head snapping back as you arched from the couch and your hips inevitably tling further into his mouth, prolonging the exquisite _torture_ as he continue to lap and suck and _taste-_

Alastor gave a guttural, pleased man as he pulled back, the sudden pain in his slacks from sensitivity heightened by the wet patch creeping from where he’d been rutting into the bed. He would have thought himself an adolescent child and ruined the moment had he not pulled back to look at your face. The rush of hunger and want and _love_ choked his being as he looked upon the divine gift that was his lover, now in every sense of the word. Your body was slowly growing slack, lips parted with your eyes rolled back. He could see the touch of tears in the corner of your eyes and the rush of your hair making a mess around your shoulders and head. It took him a moment to become fully present, the sudden, hot rush of hormones to his _incredibly ill-prepared_ body slowly dying to something content and _warm._

* * *

*** * ***

* * *

It took him a moment to catch his breath, his eyes tracing every nudge of a small love bite sucked into your skin, every occasion scratch of a crimson talon.

The primal part of his being was in nothing but a state of territorial _bliss_.

The very dredges of what he considered to be the _human_ portions were slack with _love and wanting and contentment._

He dropped down to press a final kiss to her chest, right above your heart.

You lifted your head after a few minutes, seemingly returned to your body from whatever other dimension you’d been coasting in where the backdrop was nothing but stars and the air filled with the scent of sex and pleasure.

Alastor tilted his head to meet your eyes, the slightest twitch of his brow betraying how he wanted to furrow them.

_He was worried.._

The smile that broke across your lips was nothing short of sappy and you threw your arms around his head to pull him close and pepper his face with sudden, delighted kisses. The sound of your giggles brought his usual, bright grin to his face, and he chuckled back quietly as you nuzzled into his cheek, not so much minding the taste of yourself on his tongue when he looked ever so pleased with himself.

“I love you..” you murmured, fingers drifting down his chest, across the stretched knit toward his belt. “Would you feel comfortable if I..?”

He caught your hand with ease, fingers entwining as he brought your hand up and pressed and _unnecessarily_ gentleman-like kiss to the knuckles as he met your eyes.

“I’m afraid anymore would ruin me,” he sappy admission, ears back and his face flushing pink, caused you to look down for the first time, seeing your destroyed dress and the now visible wet patch against his trousers.

You melted.

You pressed a kiss to his lips, once, twice.. fifteen, sixteen..

The two of you relaxed and kissed, not pushing, not pressing.

_Just content with warmth and wonder.._

“We should get back soon,” you whispered.

His face was buried in your hair, the scent of sex and sweat cleared away with a few snaps of his fingers and your dress still quite destroyed as he kept vigilance with his hand over your heart. _Thump, thump, thump._

“..Thank you, Darling,” he whispered.

The words were muffled by your hair, but you rolled your eyes and drew his hand from your chest so you could repeat his early gesture, kissing his knuckles with soft, gentle attention.

“I love you,” you repeated, “I love you, I love you, I-”

His lips pressed into yours, and your eyes closed as you imagined this, just this, for the rest of your life and beyond that.

You’d never felt so content with the order of the world before this moment.

“ _I ja tebe volim_ ,” he whispered back.

* * *

**The last line was Croatian (or so I assume because websites) because I felt like it fit.**

**The translation on the site said it meant "I love you, too."**

**.**

**.**

**.**

**.**

**.**

**> //////////<**

**Gods, I can't even look at myself.**

**Pistol, Out**


	31. HIATUS AND PROMPT

As the title suggests, I will be taking a SHORT hiatus.

Nothing _long_.

Nothing _definite_.

I just need to put myself in a better headspace to keep writing. I have all of these ideas, but my hands get numb when I sit to type and my mind goes _b҉͙̺̻̥̅̎͋̕͜͝͡͞͠l̶҉̰͚͖͕̍̈́̅͗̏̇͢͜͜͝a҉͖̟̜̞̂̃̑̽͢͢͠͡n̸͐̈́͟͟͝k҉̴̶̬͈̫̹͖̾̎ͭ̍̐͜͜͝͠b҉͙̺̻̥̅̎͋̕͜͝͡͞͠l̶҉̰͚͖͕̍̈́̅͗̏̇͢͜͜͝a҉͖̟̜̞̂̃̑̽͢͢͠͡n̸͐̈́͟͟͝k҉̴̶̬͈̫̹͖̾̎ͭ̍̐͜͜͝͠_

Chapters, muse willing, will resume on the morning of the 26th. It's a Saturday, instead of Friday, but Christmas is a holiday I definitely enjoy sleeping in through.

**_SO-_ **

To keep you occupied, I'm going to give you a list of prompts.

You can do what you will with them.

Make fanart, write a one-shot.

The works.

I _will_ actually ask, on an _entirely_ unrelated note-

_cough cough_

If anyone would be willing to put world-tour recommendations out there.

I've got basic places like Paris, Florence and Rio down, but I'd love to hear what you guys think would be good places to go during a world-tour. Doubly awesome if you include the reasons why you recommend them.

Anywho-

Here's the list.

* * *

Wisteria squeezing a patchwork friend like a plushie, bonus points if it makes the squeaky toy noise.

Wisteria rocking out with Al's microphone. Bonus points if it cuts to hell with people looking at their radios in horror at the female vocals.

Alastor trying different foods. The wackier the better.

Chester and Wisteria being Pals™ 

Draw a Cookie version of both Al and Wisp, bonus points if you include the patchwork friends and Chester.

Take a guess at what Ethan is doing right about now.

Waterballoon fight-!

The one(1) attempt Wisteria makes at pole dancing for exercise reasons.

Twin fun. Wisp and Chrys in matching-and/or-coordinated outfits.

Take a crack at guessing the theme song. (I have several but their all /un/surprisingly sappy)

Alastor's antlers stuck in a blanket.

Bowling date.

Dancing.

The attempt at geocaching that ended in hanky-panky in the woods.

Mini golf.

Alastor tries a smoothie.

* * *

Whelp- that's all for now. I need some sleep and a stiff drink.

-Pistol Out.


	32. One Prompt Doodle in an Attempt to Battle the Dreaded Artist Block

Here's my attempt at battling artist/writer block. I'm taking another crack at one-shot writing to get my fingers moving in the morning.

Ciao for now.

-Pistol Out


	33. Trip to Paris (Sneak Peek to the Future)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alastor and Wisteria convince a flustered tourist to take a picture of the attractive pair for their on-going scrapbook.

Behold.. _beauty.._

Al's cheekbones made me _weak._

wHaT aRE haNdS?!?!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Stock photo background provided by Wikipedia: https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Eiffel_tower_paris.jpg


	34. Christmas Card

You and Alastor stumbled through the door together around one in the morning, the kitchen light low but giving the faintest yellow splash to the side of your sister’s face. She was perched at the breakfast bar, a cup of something in hand and the worst sort of shit-eating grin on her lips as she looked the both of you up and down.

_ Mission Accomplished _ , seemed to  _ scream itself _ from her expression and eyes, and you offered her a vague, dismissing gesture as you passed her spot, not acknowledging her otherwise and leaning heavily into your boyfriend’s side. Alastor’s arms were still well-wrapped around you, supporting a good portion of your weight, but letting you walk as much as you could on your own without hindering you.

Once the both of you were out of sight, careful to walk through the living room with a dozen-odd adults still in the stages of before-sleep and midnight movies, Chrys gave herself a firm, self-satisfied fist-pump and shot a text to CJ.

_ You owe me crepes and a BluRay copy of NCIS season 4. _

_ :Sent:  _

There were maybe eleven seconds of silence before she got a reply.

_ Thank the fucking gods, I thought she was going to strangle my brother on accident. _

_ :CJ: _

Chrys smiled to herself, listening intently for the sound of any nosey relatives and tucking it away once it became clear no one was going to stick their head in to interrogate her as a third party.

Her shoulders popped as she stretched her arms above her head, smiling to herself and rocking on the balls of her feet as she thought of the  _ list _ the cousins had scraped together to initiate Al into the family.

He’d had the tour, which was a given, and he’d helped cook.

_ Only a dozen or so more things before he was a tried and true Jordan. _

* * *

Alastor looked down at the woman lounged heavily across the bed, one of her arms thrown haphazardly across his lap while the other was curled around a large, thick blue body pillow the shade of a morning sky. He tilted his head as he watched her sleep, fingers gently and rhythmically soothing through the strands of her hair and massaging the surface of her scalp.

He would be a fool not to notice how much she loved the motion, awake.

There was a knock at the door, but before he could properly extract himself from the grip of his lover, a sheet of paper was pushed beneath the door and a softened set of footsteps spirited away from the other side. Narrowing his eyes, he held out his hand, catching it as it was carried on an invisible breeze to place itself between his fingers.

_ We’ve got breakfast covered. Enjoy your morning. _

_ CJ _

He sighed, smiling fondly down at the young woman muttering in gibberish with irritation and tightening her hold around him for moving.

_ She doesn’t know how tightly she holds my heart in her palms, _ the realization wasn’t a new one, but it was no less as simultaneously exhilarating and draining all at once.  _ She hardly recognizes the extent of her power over me.. _

He thought back to the words of that Goblin King fellow from the  _ Labyrinth _ movie..

_ “I ask for so little.. Just let me rule you, and you can have everything that you want.. Just fear me, love me.. Do as I say and I will be your slave..” _

It was achingly similar to both of their desires.. She could never fear him, though he would always, in some way, fear  _ for _ her.. They ask for so little from one another, and yet they allow themselves to rule equal in exchange.. They have everything they could want..

His thumb brushed down her cheek, and he listened intently to the steady thump of her heart, the flush of sleep on her face and the gentle smile on her lips betraying her sweet dreams.

_ Do as I say.. _ Echoed mocking in his mind as he tightened his grip stilling as she resettled in his arms to curl closer and snuggle deeper into the plush cotton of his shirt, nose scrunching as she breathed in before her face settled into it’s happy expression again.

“ _ Love me.. And I will be your slave _ ..” he whispered.

He closed his eyes, willing the world to  _ slow down, stop _ ,  _ just this once _ .. Freeze this moment in time to allow him his one true taste of Heaven..

_ He wouldn’t have the opportunity to follow, after all. _

* * *

“It’s only another week,” Chrys’s voice was layered with such a  _ thick _ amount of soothing reassurance that rather than completely bouncing off of Wisteria’s agitation, it only slathered a layer of forced content at it and bound it tight, holding it in place rather than fanning a fire.

“Christmas Eve is tomorrow and I’m ready to serve Brooke as a  _ roast _ ,” Wisteria bit out, almost not even joking as she huddled in the game room. Alastor was playing pool with Soran, Reece and Torie, kicking ass with Torie and showing off. Jasmine and Skit were avoiding the other children by hiding in Wisteria’s room to play on the computers, mostly watching YouTube and playing FireBoy and WaterGirl. Aurora, Belle and CJ were trying to kick one another’s asses on Just Dance 3 on the XBox 360, their hips swaying and their hands clapping neatly in sync to the song “Let’s Go to the Mall”. Reece had bought the game and every subsequent version when it first came out and it had been used religiously to finish arguments within the band ever since.

Chrys had hauled her sister to one of the half dozen couches and forced her to decompress as they painted each other’s nails. Chrys was going for a nice fir green this time, and Wisteria was content with a gunmetal black.

Now they were waiting for the coats to dry so Chrys could have a sparkle gloss topcoat and Wisteria could pick at the finger foods on the coffee table without mucking up all her sister’s hard work.

She also was in prime position to glance over every now and then to catch a glimpse of Al’s ass as he bent over the pool table to make his shots.

_ Le sigh.. _

“If it gets too much, you  _ know _ Gramps will say something,” Chrys reminded her, almost chiding as she weighed two different sparkle lacquer bottles in her palms, judging between silver and gold. “He might be busy with cooking, but he’s never too busy to listen to us.”

Wisteria didn’t look convinced, likely thinking of Nana, but Chrys could only sigh and reach out to playfully swat her twin’s hip. “Listen, we still have a  _ ton _ of stuff to do with Al, right? Why don’t we wait for them to finish and we can go talk to Gramps about taking the Christmas Card picture.. Or making gingerbread houses.”

The effect on the blue-haired billionaire was immediate, and Chrys almost had to doubletake at the sudden  _ blinding _ grin being shot at her with such feral intensity.

_ “Reindeer onesies.” _

_ Oh, my god, _ Chrys wondered in faint awe,  _ Nana’s created a monster.. _

* * *

Alastor had no idea what would come of the next few days. He was under no circumstances going to be making assumptions or bringing any sort of prior experience to the table. That left him fresh faced and  _ vulnerable _ as he was neatly and  _ lovingly _ manhandled by his lover after the pool game’s end-  _ he won, of course, and she’d rewarded him with a kiss- _ before being sweetly and  _ effortlessly _ guided up the stairs to the bedroom.

He had a fleeting, panicked thought to wonder if she were going to initiate something..  _ Not appropriate for company _ , and the simultaneously relieving and disappointing reaction to finding the two young ladies from before, Miss Skit and Miss Jasmine, on the collection of monitors playing some sort of game.

His lover was frisky, but not  _ that _ insistent.

A bundle of cloth was put into his arms, thick and furry and with two oddly familiar shapes on the top.

_ They looked like.. Felt antlers..? _

He looked over to see his lover rushing up to the girls, waving for the younger of the two to pause it and getting the raven haired girl to nudge the one with candy-floss hair to turn around, too.

Wisteria signed rapidly, a grin on her face as she flew through the words. Alastor couldn’t see what she was saying, but there were three more identical bundles of felt and fur on the bed in varying smaller sizes.

He gripped two close portions and let the garment unravel, the smile on his lips tugging further at the corners as he was met with the sight of a tail and felt portions that vaguely resembled hooves at the bottom.

He looked back over to see his lover guiding the girls to the bed, giving a bundle to each after checking the small tags at the neck.

It took a few minutes to herd them out, signing rapidly the entire time, and he picked up words such as  _ picture _ and  _ fast. _ He waited patiently for her to close it, then rushed to throw her arms around his middle. Her nose buried itself into his chest and she inhaled deeply, then let it out in a sigh as she tilted her head back to flash him a bright, suave grin. “Sorry I took so long, lovely. Had to give the girls their onesies. They had to go up a size or two since last year.”

He still had the  _ monstrosity _ in hand, but he was  _ far _ from complaining. It sounded like it would be a fun experience.

“Will we be commemorating the evening with a photo?” his question was met with a dark, amused chuckle, and he felt a pleasant shiver rush up his spine as she reached up to align his bowtie at his throat, running a single, black-painted fingernail down the length of his neck before hooking it into his shirt collar and hauling him down to peck him on the mouth. Chaste and sweet.

“We usually do this professionally,” she explained, letting him be so she could waltz over to the bed and begin casually stripping, starting with the buttons on her red flannel blouse and working her way down. “But since CJ’s gone off to college to learn to do it professionally and since there’s just not enough time, well.. Nana refuses to give up tradition and I refuse to let it die, either, we’ll be slipping down to the livingroom to take a picture in about an hour..”

Alastor watched her fingers as they effortlessly parted the fabric, shifting it down her shoulders teasingly until it fluttered to pool around her feet. She was left in a strapless black top that showed off most of her stomach and the thick jeans around her hips that were nearly big enough for himself, had the hems at the ankles not been sewn up to prevent dragging. 

“So,” she unlatched the button, and Alastor swallowed softly as she slowly ran her fingers back around the waistline hem of the material, thumbs drifting beneath it and rubbing it between her fingers as if to test the give. “We have about.. Twenty minutes before we’re asked after.”

Alastor felt a warm thrill rush up his spine as she dropped the material, letting it heap over her feet until she stepped daintily out of them on the tips of her toes, bending forward to keep her balance and arching her back to keep him in sight from the corner of her eye.

His eyes found the thin black strings cradling her behind, nothing but a flipped star keeping his eyes from the smooth tanned skin. She turned slightly, just a touch, and he caught the sight of lace covering her front, though the two slim black straps on either side did little else to keep it hidden.  _ Gods, her freckles looked like stars.. _

Alastor felt  _ flushed. _

“ _ However _ should we pass the time?” Wisteria drawled.

_ Twenty minutes? _ Alastor felt numbers rushing behind his eyes as he strode forward, no hesitation to be seen as he planted his large hands on her hips and lifted, catching the squeal of surprise on her lips as he pulled her to his chest, shirt buttons and the cotton of his sweater vest rubbing against her skin.

Her lips and tongue tasted of spray cheese and salt crackers, as well as a touch of salami.

He was certain she could taste the espresso he’d been nursing during the pool game.

Her arms wound around his neck quickly, her surprise fading into delight as he tightened his grip, shifting her legs to stabilize around his waist so he could more easily stride for the bed.

“Skin. Off.  _ Now. _ ”

Alastor, reading the demand for what it was and  _ delighted _ , was quick to drop the disguise.

He lied her out on the sheets like treasured china, fingers delicately tracing her curvature until he was able to settle above her, pressing down and pinning her there to better enjoy the experience.

She was nearly nude beneath him, and he was still very much dressed, even if the clothes now fit snug, but the sight of her lush hair thrown back, the smudged black lipstick, the  _ want _ in her eyes..

_ It was lovely _ ..

“You’re beautiful..” The whisper was nearly lost between kisses, so he pressed his lips to her neck and lifted the volume of the words just a hair to make sure she understood. “You are  _ beautiful _ , _ma chérie_ ..”

She hummed, a laugh on the edge of her lips as her hands wandered up and buried into his hair, her insistent fingertips dragging and pressing deliciously against his scalp and scratching  _ just so _ to make him relax boneless overtop of her.

He’d had the conversation with her  _ months _ ago about his weight crushing her, but she had admitted that she liked the weight and it gave him ample opportunity to cuddle  _ and _ have an easy-out if he got overwhelmed.

His ears lowered, and he let out a long, slow sigh as he drew back to look into her eyes. The golden contacts were on the bedside table, warm hazel peaking out to him behind thick black lashes, dazed and happy and  _ open. _

“ _J_ _ e t'aime _ ,” he whispered, pressing a soft, gentle kiss to the center of her forehead. She was warm and soft in his arms, and he couldn’t recall a moment he’d ever been more at peace.

She smoothed his hair back over his head, thumbs rubbing sweetly at the sides of his ears, delight and affection pouring out of her in gentle waves.

“I know  _ that _ one,” she murmured, the faint hint of sophisticated pride in her tone as she gave a delicate sniff. “Take a guess at this one..  _ Aishiteru _ ..”

It took him a second, Japanese lessons with Niffty flickering behind his eyes as he worked it out- _ oh _ .

His grin widened, the hum leaving him closer sounding to a purr as he ducked his head close to press a kiss to her cheek. “My Japanese isn’t  _ fluent _ but I know a  _ bit _ , darling.”

“Who the hell taught you Japanese?” her bewilderment had the laugh leaving him louder than he’d meant, but she looked just as tickled by the thought as he’d been by her surprise. “A.. friend of sorts.. A young girl who made a deal with me..”

“Oh?” Wisteria didn’t push for details about Hell, something he was grateful for and surprised about tandem. “So you’re friends..”

“I’m more.. An occasional employer,” he offered with a slight shrug of his shoulders. The topic of  _ deals _ didn’t come up often, and he wasn't keen on telling her more than  _ never make one;  _ **_ever._ **

“But you like her enough to learn to learn a language from her,” Wisteria was smiling, simple but understanding and still combing her fingers through his thick red mane. “That takes patience. I don’t see you being patient with someone you can’t tolerate.”

Alastor had to silently concede on that point, at least.

They lay entwined for ten or so more minutes, needing nothing more than the contact of warm skin in warmer palms and the occasional lingering kiss.

Wisteria glanced to the left at her nightstand, letting out a soft groan and rolling her eyes before nudging at Alastor’s shoulder. “Time to get dressed before someone waltzes in.”

“I would have assumed your bedroom held the same reverence as your office.” Alastor’s comment had a grin, but he looked reluctant to leave her touch as well. Three more minutes and he was back in his ‘skin’, and Wisteria was dragging the zipper up the side, one hand held firmly on his stomach to keep her balance.

“And we’re to take a  _ photo _ dressed this way?”

Alastor’s eyes were caught on the standing mirror propped in the corner, easily tall and wide enough to match his demonic height and show both of their figures. However, it dwarfed him in his human form, and the elegant black iron swirling along the edges with the faux purple flowers in the corners made it look closer to some untouchable, ethereal portal to a land of nymphs and faeries.

And with his lover dressed in a matching garment to him, sporting fur and fluff and felt-covered antlers with some sort of stiff wiring inside to keep them up, he couldn’t deny she looked magical.

_ Perhaps he was becoming sappy in his old age.. _

_ Dash the thought, _ he shuddered sharply, a concerning amount of revulsion smarting up his spine.  _ Never think it again. She was a young adult woman and I died in my thirties, I am not taking any liberties not deliberately and pointedly given- _

“Al,” Wisteria drawled, quirking up an eyebrow when he flashed her his bright, blinding grin, one he used when he was thinking about something he didn’t particularly like. “You good?”

“Never better-!” he chirped, reaching out to pinch her cheek, “What next?”

“Well..” Wisteria’s grin was better labelled  _ smug _ and  _ devious, _ and Alastor wondered if he should write a second will.

_ Here’s to hoping she didn’t plan to silence his existence somehow.. _

_ Whether by weapon or by sheer force of love, he wasn’t certain. _

* * *

_ He wouldn’t have thought such dramatic things had he known she was just going to dab makeup on his face. _

He sat patiently on the pale leather couch of the living room, a navy pillow in his lap cushioning his love as she straddled him, a knee on either side of his hips as she held his chin firmly in her left hand and drew on him with her right.

So far his eyes had been lined, his lips given a small dash of pink gloss, hardly even noticeable, his eyelashes given a touch of mascara and his nose was currently being colored in around the bottom into a black button shape. She had done the same to her own face, surprisingly similar to the way she’d done her makeup on Halloween, minus the blinding colors, so he had a reference and visual to know how he would end up looking, minus the black top lip.

“Almost done,” she promised quietly, as if sitting in his lap and cradling his face in her palm was any sort of discomfort for him. “I’m trying not to take away from your natural beauty.”

“No chance of that,” the voice of the acid-haired cousin chirped from two seats away, currently messing and flicking at the fluffy tail on the hind of his own male lover, while the female did a similar routine to the standing raven haired bassist. “He looks like he could pull off a potato sack- _ oww- _ ”

Reece rubbed at the back of his head, nursing the almost absent-minded swat he’d gotten from the young man in front of him. Soran turned back to Torie, face still relaxed and almost disinterested as he scolded his boyfriend. “Don’t talk about him pulling anything  _ off _ when the vultures are in the kitchen listening in like hyenas.”

The gathered group looked toward the doorway to see a head of violently curled brown hair rush back behind the safety of the wall, and Al inwardly cringed as he reached up his hands to further draw Wisteria toward his torso. The attention of a girl just hardly able to legally  _ drink _ made him nauseous.

“They still pissed about not being on the Christmas card?” It was CJ who asked the question then, kneeling on the floor with another pillow to better apply the makeup to Skit’s eyes and nose. Jasmine, Aurora and Belle were lounging, finished in the corner near the tree, fixing the fluff-lining around Nana’s bright, rose-red bell skirt. She was dressed as Mrs Claus, per tradition, with a deep red gown of crushed velvet lined with thick white fur around the hem and ending in cuffs around the long, form-fitting sleeves. The top was also fit to her form, with a matching crushed red velvet cloak with a matching white fur inner lining pinned around her throat and flowing behind her. Her long silver hair was pinned up in ringlet curls atop her head, her makeup tastefully done and her ears sporting gleaming, diamond teardrops she’d gotten for her birthday a few decades back.

_ She looked beautiful, and it took Wisteria’s breath away whenever she got a glance. _

Gramps entered the room with Chrys close at hand, chatting to him at a speed that was nearly inhuman and gesturing with her bare hands while her black leather gloves were shoved under her armpit.

“-and it’s just going to take longer to set it up, there’s plenty of Graham Crackers to use and it’s arguably going to be more structurally sound..”

“If it keeps you lot out of my kitchen while I’m baking with your Nana, then I don’t care if you used  _ sheetrock _ for the houses, Doll,” Gramps huffed, reaching up a hand to tug the hood over her head, covering her eyes as she squawked at the indignity, though her rose-painted lips refused to stop smiling. “We can make the cookies as a side project, but the ovens are full to bursting and I can’t fit more than that if we want everybody to be fed tomorrow  _ and _ have enough leftovers to last us all Christmas day..”

“Anybody tries to make you cook on  _ Christmas _ and I’m throwin’ ‘em out-!” Wisteria barked, raising her hand and shaking it with warning toward the ceiling, finished with Alastor’s adorable  _ deer-look _ and simply enjoying where she was sat and held like a treasure.

Her hood was also shoved down as Gramps passed, his heavy black boots making  _ thump-thumps _ on the floor as he walked up to Nana. The grandchildren were all treated to the sight of Santa Clause greeting his wife with a regal kiss to her black-glove covered fingers, a few of the older ones sighing in longing while the younger two of the whole lot scrunched up their noses and looked away with pink cheeks.

“Mrs Claus..”

“ _ Mr _ Clause,” Nana drawled back, a touch of southern twang in her voice that had the smile on Gramp’s face widening a few notches.

“Get a  _ room _ ,” Aunt Franky entered the room with her husband, both herself and her husband sporting the black noses and the fluffy onesies. “I’m too old to see my parents getting Freaky by the Christmas tree..” She gave an exaggerated wink towards the couch, where the cousins chuckled softly and were treated to Aunt Franky getting her hood shoved over her eyes much like the twins’ had been by Santa.

“Too old to lick the brownie spatula too, it seems,” Gramps commented idly, ignoring her horrified gasp and reaching out to pull Nana to his chest and dip her back with a loud, smacking hiss on her lips.

The family cracked up as Franky mimed out stabbing her own eyeballs, Uncle Justin patting her back in false sympathy and giving a roll of his eyes when she hung onto his shoulders and practically folded herself over him.

Gramps brought Nana up and fixed her makeup with his thumb, unknowingly mirroring Alastor’s gesture to Wisteria a handful of days back.

The incident refreshed itself in the bluenette’s mind then, and she flushed softly as she ducked her head down to hug at Alastor’s shoulders.

_ She’d always dreamed of having a relationship as wonderful as Nana and Gramps’. _

“Alright, alright,” CJ called, rolling her eyes at the playful drama and moving to adjust the tripod and camera close to the entrance to the kitchen, kneeling down to fix the tree, presents and roaring fireplace into the entire shot. “Take your places already, I don’t wanna be stuck in this onesie all night.”

On cue, Gramps and Nana took their places near the fire, and the children started to scatter and gather together in almost elegantly poised heaps. Skit and Jasmine, the smallest of the lot, sprawled out on their stomachs at the foot of the shot, while Torie was helped up onto Reece’s back, and he was tucked under the arm of Soran, so the three were practically draped over one another for standing balance. Aunt Franky cradled Uncle Justin in front of her, settling her chin atop his head with her lovestruck expression while their daughters sprawled out in different poses on their knees. Belle was holding up peace signs and Aurora was tugging at her felt ears as if to shield them. Chrys hopped up to take a cheerleader pose on her knees in front of Soran and his limpets, one fist on her hips and the other arm shoving her hand splayed up with an odd sort of elegance.

Wisteria helped Alastor to the space on Gramp’s right, leaving him and Nana between them and Aunt Franky with Uncle Justin. He stood behind her, holding her tenderly similar to Aunt Franky, his arms slipping beneath hers to curl protectively around her torso. She leaned back into the fluff of his onesie, lifting her head to give him an impish smile and a delighted, excited-looking wink. He pressed a kiss to the top of her head and turned his eyes to the camera, catching sight of brown curls and blonde ringlets peering in and resisting the urge to drop his smile for a disgusting grimace. A squeeze to his arm brought his eyes back to his darling, and the feeling vanished.  _ He was taking a Christmas Photo with the loveliest woman on the planet.. He’d be lying if he said he wasn’t affected by it. _

CJ lined up the shot for a few minutes, set the timer, and did a countdown for multiple shots before bolting for the group. She settled herself above the two sprawled girls and next to Chrys, folding her arms under her chest and catching her breath to sport her easy smile.

The camera flashed, once, twice, then had a second timer for ten seconds so CJ could quickly say “Make a funny face for this one-!”

Tongues were stuck out, eyes were crossed, and Wisteria reached up for Alastor’s felt ears so she could press a kiss to his cheek, eyes pinched shut and her cheeks puffed out and rosy with a warm blush.

Alastor could only grin like a fool.

_ Happy Holidays. _


	35. Gingerbread Village (mild NSFW warning towards the end)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Happy Holidays my wonderful Watchers-!  
> I am exhausted.  
> Enjoy the start to the New Year-!

Chrys had cream cheese frosting smeared on her cheek, and you would have been tempted to wipe it off with your thumb and sneak a taste had you thought she wasn’t wearing makeup. In any case, you took a paper towel, wet it and reached across the sea of confectionery on the table set up in the living room, stacked high with boxes of graham crackers, jars of cream cheese frosting, and many,  _ many _ bags of candy bits.

Currently, Alastor was piping frosting in a neat rectangle on the 12”-by12” inch foam board he’d been given for a base, concentration on his features as he carefully applied the foundation of his project. Your own base was a touch larger, about a foot and a half on each side, but your mental schematic was a bit larger than Alastor’s plan.

Chrys gave you a scowl as you washed away the frosting, returning to her self-designated task of cutting the crackers into window shapes.

Reece, Soran and Torie were making some sort of monolith-church at the farthest end of the table, Alastor furthest from them in direct opposite with you on his right and Chrys on yours, while Jasmine put together something that looked like a Smurf Dwelling on the sketchbook propped up beside her, the mirroring page on the opposite side showing Skit’s sketch across the table of something that resembled a store front. The space to Alastor’s left had been left open to house the boxes and jars and piles of candy. Aurora and Belle were working together to frost different smaller dwellings, most of them basic house-shapes with some having thatched roofs and others having chimney’s or porches.

Alastor stacked and frosted his house with the utmost precision and care, occasionally even using a small knife to shave off bits where he needed.

You felt yourself smiling, and hurried to school your features and turn back to your own project, fingers delicately slicing at the crackers into the desired lengths. Your sketchbook was open in front of you, and occasionally your eyes drifted to the smudged pencil and estimated measurements.

Ten minutes into the activity, Alastor tensed beside you, and you reached out to reflexively smack at the hand you could see reaching from above and behind Alastor’s shoulders.

“What the fuck-” the expletive was sharp and pained and Genevieve shot you a look lethal enough to wound a bear. “What’s your  _ problem _ , aside from the  _ obvious?” _

“What is this, Mean Girls?” your thoughtless response brought the sneer on her face to deepen, (you heard a cough from Torie and Reece had made a choking-snort sort of sound) and she curled her french-manicured fingers on her hips, tossing her head to the side, long silken blonde hair flying in a commercial-worthy flip over her shoulder. She was pushing out her chest, the hint of a red bra peeking out a deep grey sweater dress that was almost certainly cashmere and fit almost too tight to her torso and thighs.

“Listen, if you have a problem with me, you really should say it to my face,” Genevieve mouthed and sounded out the words as if she thought you were too slow to comprehend them, and you could physically  _ feel _ Chrys tense behind you, a mixture of concern and aggravation in the tense curl of fingers you could see fisted on the table from the corner of your eye.

“Okay,” you stood without preamble, making her stumble back in her black stiletto shoes with deep red soles. “Don’t go near or touch my boyfriend. Not because I’m a jealous bitch, I  _ am _ a jealous bitch, but I respect him and his judgement-” with the increasing pace of your words, you put a hand to Alastor’s stiff shoulder, squeezing it softly with an attempt to show how proud you were of him not breaking her arm on reflex. “But because he has no desire to be touched by you, or anyone he doesn’t know intimately well. So keep your hands to yourself and we won’t  _ have _ a problem.”

Genevieve looked even more disgusted by your argument, shifting from putting her hands on her hips to push out her chest and cock her hip out, increasingly frustrated when Al wouldn’t even  _ look at her, c’mon~! _ And shifting them to fold under her chest to push it up that way, viciously fighting the urge to pout in aggravation. “Good to know you have his balls on a leash..” She turned her attention to Al, fully, and you felt your insides squirm with that bone-deep wrath that nearly got you expelled from school many,  _ many _ times.

“Listen, sugar,” the young woman’s words were sickly-sweet with promise and a sort of enticing lure that had your hackles rising and had Alastor shifting into your grounding grip away from her as she spoke, smokey-eyes and false eyelashes batting demurely with each word from her ruby-painted lips. “She may seem fun and all, but she’s  _ really _ not. Just know that if you ever want to  _ talk.. _ ” the emphasis had Soran hissing under his breath with second-hand cringe. “-I’m just down the hall from you, alright?”

“Do you really have nothing better to do right now?” Chrys asked, impatient and tense and reaching out a hand to catch your elbow. Even if you hadn’t moved, even if you hadn’t opened your mouth to  _ tear her ass a new one- _ she knew when you were gearing up and she knew how to cool your jets. “Why don’t you go entertain your cousins or something? I heard they were having a dance party in the game room downstairs, maybe you should go see if they could be bothered to learn from you since you  _ obviously _ see the floor of a club with  _ gentlemen _ every now and then.”

The backhanded, subtle insult had the hackles in you settled in an instant, and you absently fought the smile trying to break across your lips as you curled your fingers into Al’s hair and gently soothed the strands back and away from his forehead. He tilted his head back into your hands, eyes calm and warm as he watched you watch the blonde behind him fume and struggle to figure out what the insult had been.

“Shoo,” it was Jasmine who broke the silence then, and Reece lost his shit as he started to laugh, squeezing the plastic baggie of cream cheese too hard in his hilarity and splattering it across Aurora.

The young woman reached up a hand to slowly flick the cream away from her chin, her other hand snatching up a spatula still smeared with pink frosting to reach across and swipe at his cheek.

Seeing the incoming food fight about to break out, Genevieve muttered something about needing to check her snapchat before jogging off (in heels, which, while she pissed you off, was still impressive) toward the hallway to the rest of the house.

“Gods, she’s turning into Brooke 2.0,” Chrys muttered, reaching out a hand to absently catch the peanut butter cup that had gone flying in the sudden fight further down the table, at a perfect trajectory to ruin Al’s project, had she not reacted quick enough. The rest of them had casually slid their projects toward Al’s end, still plenty of space to do so and allow the “children” to work out their excess energy.

“May God have Mercy,” Belle huffed.

“..Where’s CJ?” you asked in sudden curiosity, peering into what you could of the kitchen, “Is she still making gingerbread men with Gramps?”

“I think so,” Chrys offered, batting away an airborne gumdrop with the wide end of an uncut graham cracker, sending it flying like a ping-pong ball back into Reece’s face. “In any case, we should get back to  _ work-!” _ she lifted the volume of the last word, stopping both of the children cold, Aurora holding a glob of bright green frosting on the end of her spatula, threatening to drip toward the carpet with every defensive shift of her wrist as Reece carefully and sheepishly lowered the cereal straw sticks he’d been treating like miniature drumstick/bo-staffs.

“Fucking children,” Chrys uttered, picking up a pipette of white frosting, “The both of you..”

* * *

“Duck-!”

Alastor answered the order without question, mild surprise taking hold of his features as a ball of compacted snow burst on the outer wall of the garage, sending the melted and reformed flakes scattering with just the vaguest imprint left behind on the well-packed wood.

His lover had dived for the ground as if taking cover for some sort of gunshot, arms already scrambling to throw a snowball together and her body twisting back just long enough to get the momentum to shoot it back in retaliation. Alastor burst into laughter when it exploded on the face of one of the many ill-wanted cousins, bolting with his lover to get to a larger heap of snow and delighting in the way that she immediately began carving out a fortress after telling him to “Ammo up, Stat-!”

While she was busy doing this, several more scores of snowballs were being exchanged from a number of other piles, woolen hats covering heads of children that screamed and laughed and shouted in surprise and-or outrage as they were all at once hailed upon by one another.

Alastor did his civic duty by providing his  _ amour _ with a score of perfectly rounded snowballs fit for her smaller hands, the tilt of his lips on his face showing off a white, fanged smile when she sat up. Satisfied for now with the makeshift wall, she leaned up to press a kiss to the apple of his cheek and send another two snowballs out in retaliation for the earlier assault.

He joined in the fun after a few moments of hesitance, wondering how hard he could get away with it, only to find that for  _ some _ reason, Brooke’s eldest had come out in a designer fur coat and a sort of fez hat with a matching muffler, skin-tight black pants doing  _ hardly anything _ to keep out the chill and  _ clearly designer  _ white boots.

He took  _ wonderful pleasure _ in pelting several snowballs across the great distance as she hovered near the house beneath the edge of the second-story porch. Both he and Wisteria were pelting out snowballs left and right. With the sudden distraction of acid-green hair from Reece going down with a cry and several children cheering in victory further away, Chester slipped off out of sight and crept up to the house to the second-story ledge, grinning down wolfishly at the young woman stomping her feet in an effort to stay warm and grumbling foul-mouthed curses about blue-haired bitches and shitty weather.

He saw no harm in shaking a singularly sturdy pole, sending a vibration up along the ledge and fueling a  _ large _ sheet of snow into sliding down and  _ burying _ the girl face-first into a wet-powdered drift with a scream.

He slipped back before anyone could look up to see what had happened, but the entire yard had ceased in a moment of solidarity to laugh uproariously at her misfortune, and Alastor silently slipped a package of Oreos out of his pocket to reward him. Away from his lover's eyes, of course. He  _ did _ promise to behave himself, but  _ Chester _ never made such a promise..

* * *

Ninety percent of the children were huddled with cocoa and blankets and watching Netflix in the upstairs livingroom, while Chrys had commandeered the lower lounge to haul together all of the cousins and make Gramps break out the home movies.

Alastor sat in the corner of one of the long sofas, with you cuddled up in his lap and a large green comforter surrounding the both of you as you sipped your cocoa and Alastor sipped his tea.

Nana and Gramps were cuddled up together a few chairs away, Torie, Soran and Reece all piled up to hog an entire couch, legs draped together, Reece’s head in Torie’s lap, the whole shebang. Chrys had leaned back into the love seat CJ was sharing with Skit, a blanket over her legs and her cocoa piled high with whipped cream and marshmallows, while Jasmine, Belle and Aurora sprawled out on the floor in an odd huddle.

“There’s Gramps when he and Nana got married,” you whispered, one arm curled behind Alastor’s neck to cushion it while he held you tucked up close to his chest, your lips just inches from his ear as you cuddled and watched the screen as two  _ much younger _ versions of your grandparents stood at an elaborate alter. You got to watch Nana’s face light up as Gramps pulled the veil from over her face and the kiss they shared looked magical.

The rest of the film was edited to show them bursting from the church to showers of flower petals and helped into a horse-drawn carriage to go on their honeymoon, which they still had pictures of hanging elegantly upon the wall of Gramps' Study and a few in Nana’s Craft room.

The next video was a film from Uncle Justin and Aunt Franky’s Wedding.

The wedding videos for your father and your uncle were notably absent, as they had been for many years.

In lieu of wedding videos where Aunt Franky shoved cake in Uncle Justin’s face and vice-versa, you had reels of film dedicated to your dad playing football, to your uncle running track. To your dad and uncle dressing up for prom with two lovely women you knew were family friends and their last days at home before their first deployments.

Videos were scattered around that time, for good reason, and it was joined almost immediately by videos of Reece running around the house in just a diaper, giggling, with you and Chrys toddling around in others, followed by CJ, Aurora, then it was Belle and Skit and Jasmine..

Preschool graduations passed in a blur, the more vocal girls, i.e. Chrys, CJ and Aurora, getting solos in nearly every performance. 

Father-daughter dances where Gramps stepped in, Mother-son dances where Nana  _ always _ went with Reece.

Middle-school dances where you and Chrys dressed as opposite as possible to keep your dates from mixing the two of you up.

Then to talent shows, and highschool..

CJ’s infamous magic-act video came, and the entire room was in  _ tears _ .

So much shit had gone wrong that day that not  _ only _ had the damage to the stage been close to three grand in repair costs, but the words “Loopnova” and “Firehorse” were expressly  _ forbidden _ from the campus grounds, and no one looked the same at rubber ducks for a long while..

CJ busted her ankle, and swore off magic, and  _ no one _ blamed her.

While you were gasping for breath, Alastor was clutching you close and shuddering as he tried to muffle his cackling. It was better than Hell.  _ So much better.. Lucifer could take tips.. _

You and Chrys had done your last ever performance for school talent-competitions the following year, and if you  _ did _ say so yourself, it was pretty awesome. There had been no less than five quick costume-changes, a full dance number and a spot-on Elvis impression at the end that ended in strobe-lights and matching white-tassel jackets sparkling in the spotlight.

“ _ If only I had separate parts-! _ ” Chrys sang along with the song as she always did, arms throw dramatically in the air and one hand over her brow as if in a dead faint. “ _ My career would be the arts-! I’d be the star of Ca-me-lot~! You’d-” _ she turned to poke your thigh playfully. “- _ be the half that the whole world forgot-!” _

You stuck out your tongue and cuddled back into Alastor with a mutter of “She thinks she’s so funny.. Acting like she wasn’t just as stressed out about making it epic.”

Alastor seemed in  _ awe _ of the fact that the both of you had pulled it off, watching with his lips parted in shock, intently watching the screen as you and your sister pranced and “argued” across the stage and ducked behind an angled three-piece changing screen to ditch and shift clothes.

“Your voice was lovely even then,” he murmured, pressing a kiss to the side of your head and humming when you ducked down to huff against hi shoulder, your face heating with embarrassment as Chrys threw herself into her usual bitching rant about how  _ awful _ the synchronized changing had been, and how many hours you’d both had to spend sewing tear-away clothes so you didn’t look like mooks.

The videos shifted to family trips, showing portions of everyone visiting Paris, Canada, Mexico, and even Hawaii when you were all a lot younger, maybe ten or so years back, actually. Jasmine had still been in diapers.

As the videos finished out, Alastor noted that the girls on the floor were completely out cold, the thick blanket they’d shared giving enough heat to put them all right to sleep.

CJ and Skit were dozing similarly on the love seat, and the trio on the couch had long-since passed out, Soran snoring audibly and Torie’s feet stretched out across his lap along with most of Reece’s middle and lower body.

Alastor shifted the body in his lap, letting out a soft, breathy chuckle when you nuzzled closer and tightened your grip on his sweater vest.

_ Time for bed, I think, _ he glanced at the others, seeing everyone but the eldest male cuddled up and fast asleep. Michelangelo was giving him a searching look, but as it drifted to the woman in his arms, it softened, and he gave a slow, agreeing nod before pulling the blanket further over his wife’s shoulder and settling back with a long, resigned sigh.

Alastor felt something important shift within his abdomen, something odd and knowing. As he carried his love up the stairs to sleep in their own room, away from prying eyes and behind a door with a  _ lock _ -

He felt that he might have..

_ Gotten a blessing of some kind.. _

One that didn’t  _ harm him, _ at least.

* * *

Christmas Eve came bright and early and Alastor was dragged around the house for all manner of ridiculous reasons.

CJ had expressed interest in learning how to dance swing, and he’d offered to teach her after breakfast, much to the pleasant shock of the majority of the room. The extended family seemed rather not to care, but Brooke and her immediate ilk seemed pensive.

Which lead to Alastor and Wisteria, dressed in stylish but loose clothes in front of no less than a  _ dozen _ young adults, demonstrating a Texas Tommy to a group of onlooking pupils.

He saw it as a small mercy that there were enough young men on  _ that _ side of the family that he hadn’t needed to pair himself with anyone for any  _ more hands-on instructions _ such as Miss Genevieve had slyly suggested, wearing a dress that was tight around the bodice, sleeveless, strapless, and backless, with a skirt that  _ barely _ flustered as she twirled.

Compared the vibrant yellow fabric of his darling’s dress that swept out like a ball gown as he spun with her around the room, it looked as if she’d hardly tried to get in the spirit.

He prided himself on knowing that he’d taught his darling’s Aunt and Uncle how to dance with some degree of success, even if their laughter and enjoyment made up for any mistakes.

Reece had pulled Torie into the ring, with CJ pairing up with Soran. 

George apparently “possessed two left feet” which was the  _ biggest _ lie Wisteria had ever heard come out of the petite man’s hands, and Brian had  _ leapt _ at the chance to dance with Gen before she could protest, much to Al’s delight when he caught the sly, subtle wink in his direction and flashed the good-men a grin. George stuck around to film the experience.

For two hours Al and Wisp instructed, leaving the group in a passable-state before slipping away for some alone time. Alone-time turned into dodging miniature humans and racing cats and finding themselves tucked into a cleaning closet, Wisteria shutting the door with a ragged huff and holding her breath as she peered through the slants until the woman certifiably  _ stalking them _ had passed. Alastor’s hands settled on her hips, his breath coming in soft, warm puffs against the back of her neck as she watched.

He chuckled to himself, soft and breathless, before pressing a firm kiss to the back of her neck. The skin trembled with a shudder beneath his lips, and he dragged his mouth along the rest of her spine until he could bury his face into her sweet-smelling hair. The both of them had shared a bath at four o’clock in the morning, and he still remembered the galaxy of freckles scattered across her sun-tanned skin.

He remembered the warmth of her hands and the flush of her face as they danced in front of her family, while they tried repeating the moves with varying degrees of success behind them.

His chuckle grew louder, though not by much, however it was enough for her to turn in his hold and mime an exaggerated “Shush-!” motion with a matching sound leaving her lips.

He brushed aside her hand and pulled her close, trapping her between himself and the door with a ragged exhale and a  _ need _ for the warmth she gave off. She kissed back after a moment of surprise, her arms winding bhind him to curl into the back of his shirt.

He pressed her harder into the door, his knee slotting into the space between her thighs and lifting her to settle her weight there so he could more easily claim her mouth.

The noise of surprise she made was muffled by the insistent give and  _ taketaketake _ from Alastor’s mouth, plush pink lips lacking the usual gloss or coloring submitting  _ beautifully _ to the slip of a tongue and the tilt of his head.

Her breath tasted of berries and syrup and her hands burned like a furnace, grounding him to the moment as he dug his fingers into the back of her dress and pulled her closer, the plush mounds of her breasts crushed against his own chest as he shifted his leg and swallowed down her startled,  _ pleasant _ moan.

Her breathing was coming heavier, and he made a point to kiss her breathless as he shifted his leg once more, lifting her completely off of her toes and delighting in the  _ squeak _ she gave as her fingers tightened in the back of his shirt and her eyes rolled back.

The door was swung out with a loud  _ “Gotcha-!” _ and the two went tumbling out into the hall, Alastor gripping her tightly enough to bruise and a layer of static shocking her tongue in his surprise.

The scandalized  _ gasp _ further in the hall and Wisteria rolled onto her back to see who had “stumbled” across the both of them.

“There are  _ children _ present you little  _ tramp _ ,” the blonde bellowed, drawing startled breaths from the hall where Genevieve, Persephone and CJ were all huddled, CJ holding a camera and looking cross between grossed out and excited while Persephone winced at the sound of her mother’s screech.

Heads began poking out of rooms, little children mixed with aunts and uncles and more than a few teenagers pulling out their phones to start filming.

“I’m  _ talking _ to you, you little harlot-!” Brooke screamed, “How the hell could you shove this poor young man in a closet and  _ defile _ him like some sort of jezebel-?!”

Brooke looked apoplectic, her pale face pinched and so red it could rival a tomato. Wisteria briefly pondered the idea that she might have seen a vein throb on the side of her neck, but she chalked it up to wishful thinking, considering the amount of botox that had already gone into her, there was likely nothing of such to be seen.

“What do you have to  _ say _ for yourself,” she hissed, ring-covered fingers clenching in and out of fists as she glared at Wisteria. Her face became dazed as she took in Alastor, seeing the plushness of his lips from the harsh kisses, the flick of his tongue as he licked away whatever remained of his love from his mouth and lifted his head to look into her eyes.

Brooke’s body gave a sudden, hot-cold flash of a shudder, arousal and fear sparking her entire body and Genevieve started to make a very alarming noise further up the hallway, a stomp of a foot heralding the incoming tantrum. “Mom _ my, why is she in a closet with him when  _ **_you said-_ ** _ ” _

“Did you  _ really _ just call me a jezebel,” Wisteria felt the irritation flicker away with her giggle, Alastor’s hands helping her up without a word as he brought her close and took slow, deep breaths, a smile plastered on his lips that did  _ not _ reach his eyes. “Thanks,” she murmured, turning to reach up a hand and straighten his tie. He met her eyes then, showing her all of the murderous  _ rage _ in his eyes and melting her  _ further _ as his ire rose to her defense.  _ But he was behaving, fuck she was so in love with this man.. _

“You okay to go upstairs for a while?” she asked gently, cradling his chin with her palm and smiling warmly as he nuzzled into her palm and let out a soft breath of air through his nose.

“I’d prefer to leave the home altogether for a while,” he admitted under his breath.

“Done,” she nodded.

She took his hand, much to his surprise, and dragged him past the group by sweeping out her arm to clear a path, CJ quickly joined in and blocked the others from touching them both as Genevieve started  _ screaming _ .

_ “YOU SAID YOU WERE GOING TO MAKE SURE SHE WOULDN’T-” _

Wisteria shut them into the mudroom and rushed to pull a few spare coats from the hooks, making sure to grab one of Gramp’s spare jackets for Al and sniping one of Chrys’s for herself. They pulled on their shoes in record time and Wisteria took his hand to pull him to the car. Very little would be open on Christmas eve, but simply getting out of the house was the objective for the moment.

Wisteria drove, and drove, and drove them up to the last diner that seemed open so late in the holidays. It was in a fifties theme, with a jukebox lined in neon lights visible from the nearly barren parking lot.

“We used to get milkshakes here after Chrys’s dance recitals,” she remarked, taking Al’s hand and simply sitting in the car while he got his ‘buzz’ under control. Chester was in the back, curling up comfortingly against Al’s neck and looking between the both of them with curious blue eyes. “Hey..”

She waited until he’d given her most of his attention to bring his hand up to her lips, pressing a kiss to his knuckles and meeting his eyes with no holds bar and every emotion she held for him visible on her face. “I’m proud of you, you know?”

“I.. I  _ hurt _ you..” His eyes dragged to the back of her coat, and glanced to her mouth, where he had  _ surely _ felt the static shock as well. “I didn’t mean to harm you-  _ ever, I would never-” _

“I know.”

The two, heartfelt and honest words stopped Al short, and he let out a short, choked sounding laugh before he was hanging his head and drawing her hand between both of his, caressing the back of it and rubbing at the skin with his thumbs.

“I love you.”

The whisper left his lips in a breath, and he dipped his head to kiss her knuckles, then the top of her hand, then turn her wrist to start kissing the inside of her wrist. “I love you, I love you, I-”

“I love you, too, you big doof,” she murmured, giggling softly as he ran out of skin and dragged his fingertips feather-light along and up her arm atop the coat until he’d reached skin again, where her neck was bared, the garment still not zipped and showing off her bright yellow dress with it’s V-neck with a modest show of cleavage and it’s quarter-sleeves. His hand, large and warm, settled around the side of her throat, and he traced the length of it with the pad of his thumb before leaning across the armrest to press his lips to hers.

The kiss they shared in the car was far less of a rush than the one in the broom cupboard, the slow, careful pull and push of lips translating the reassurance they both seemed to need after such a tension-wrought confrontation.

_ ‘I’m sorry..’ _

_ ‘I know..’ _

_ ‘I hurt you..’ _

_ ‘I’m fine..’ _

_ ‘I love you..’ _

_ ‘I love you more..’ _

* * *

They didn’t get that milkshake for another twenty minutes, while the two reaffirmed themselves with their morals and consciousness and limits.

“I’m. Still. So. Proud. Of. You.” The words were pressed between kisses before they left, and Alastor took it with a dreamy smile and Chester ribbed him from behind as he stirred his straw in his strawberry monstrosity and tasted chocolate on her lips from her own.

They didn’t get home until close to dinner, and Wisteria was accosted quickly by Chrys, who waved at Al before pulling the bluenette aside to tell her that Brooke and her ilk had gotten a  _ talking-to, Read: Warning _ from Gramps. And there was never and  _ would never _ be a three-strike-out system. You fucked up once, fine, don’t do it again. Do it again? Punishment.

“So she  _ shouldn’t _ be a problem,” Chrys hinted darkly. They would try. “I’d avoid leaving each other in different rooms, at least until everyone else is conked out or out of the house, I know it’ll be a bit barmy with the lack of privacy, but you kind of signed up for it when you picked that-” the red-head jerked her thumb at Wisteria, only to yelp when she was leapt at from behind and pulled into a bone-crushing hug with a warning sound not unlike a growl next to her neck.

“Call me a  _ that  _ again,” Wisteria grumbled, grinning from ear-to-ear and delighted in the shriek Chrys gave as she struggled to squirm away. “Do it. I  _ dare _ you.”

“Mercy-!”

Wisteria granted it after a few more seconds, pressing a kiss to the girl’s cheek and giving her a nose-boop. “You’re a doll.”

“And you owe me.”


	36. NSFW One-Shot Now Available..

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I'm seriously sorry about the lack of update, but writer's block is grueling and fighting me tooth and claw.  
> Here.  
> Have a smexy One-Shot.  
> You deserve it for being patient.  
> Please read the tags, tho.  
> Kind of important.

["Fuck the Cook," so says the apron](https://archiveofourown.org/works/28834968)

Enjoy.

But seriously, please be mindful of tags and the Explicit rating.

No joke.

 _At all_.

.

.

.

Horndogs.


	37. Christmas Morning

“ _..let your heart be light..”_

Alastor sighed, soft and slow as a soothing melody reached his ears. Plush, warm skin pillowed his face and he could hear the rhythmic, steady _thump-thump-thump_ of his lover’s heartbeat beneath his crimson-colored ear.

_“From now on, your troubles will be out of sight..”_

He let out another breath, breathing in slowly to scent cinnamon, gingerbread and cocoa in the air. The scents he and his lover had fallen asleep in after their escapades the day previous.

_“Through the years, we all will be together..”_

Warm fingers were carding through his hair, well-kept nails tracing down along his scalp with a pleasant pressure while his own curled tightly into the fabric of her sleep pants, the soft green ones with black and grey serpents patterned in advertising something called _Slytherin_.

_“If the fates allow..”_

The melody was not unfamiliar to him, and he could only pair the voice with his own as he heard her smile through the honeyed words.

“Hang a shining star..” he whispered, lifting his head from his favored place of rest and meeting warm, hazel eyes. The soft brown was interrupted by lush blue and light green, dispersed with flecks of warm honey gold. While he adored anything she did in the name of fashion and style, and he knew she truly loved her golden contacts, her true eyes could draw his attention for hours. He had spent many such hours in the cabin memorising each shift of a blossoming petal hidden within the iris, each shade lighter when it brightened as she smiled. “ _Upon the highest bough.._ ”

“ _And have yourself,”_ she sang the chorus with him with her warm voice gentled by the early hour, the barest hint of light peeking through the curtains. Not even enough for an actual hint of sun. “ _A merry little Christmas, now.._ ”

She leaned down to press her lips to his, and he let out a long, contented sigh before winding his arms around her waist and pulling her towards him, her back arching from the bed at the angle as he sweetly and thoroughly set to welcome the holiday by taking a moment to rememorize the feeling and pleasure of her lips and tongue.

They sat entwined within the sheets for several minutes, Alastor turning his attention away from her mouth when she became dangerously low on air and settling soft, searching kisses to the line of her throat.

 _At least until the knock_.

“Wisp, dear..”

The voice that came through the door had the both of them drawing away with a start, his love turning delightfully _red_ in embarrassment and his own face flushing pink as he cleared his throat and helped her to sit up.

“Time to get up,” Nana called, the smile in her voice very much present as she knocked once more. “Be downstairs and dressed in a few minutes, you don’t want your waffles getting cold..” She retreated with a shuffle of feet, knocking on a door further down the hallway, her words muffled by the distance.

“Waffles..” Wisteria’s dazed murmur was cut off by Alastor pressing a sound kiss to her lips and rolling off of the bed to find something suitable to wear. He was halted as he looked for a particular vest in his suitcase, only to have the deep red plaid flannel robe hanging on the back of the door settled over his shoulders and twin hands with gunmetal colored nails following through the motion with the intent of massaging them.

He leaned back into the touch with a pleasant sigh, closing his eyes at the feeling of plush lips against the back of his neck.

“Just pajamas, love,” Wisteria whispered, face still flushed at what Nana was implying. She hadn’t really slept nude since figuring out her radio had been haunted, but it was a widely known fact that the cousins did it when door locks were available.

Alastor, having no idea of the unmentioned teasing, simply smoothed out the lapels of the robe, evened out the belt and made sure to tuck away his demonic form back into the fleshy, smooth skin of his previous body. His lover let out a sigh, looking longingly at the mirror before giving his now tailless rump a sharp smack and waltzing for the robe hanging on her bedpost. He eyed the silken robe as it was dragged up her arms and over her shoulder, lush hopi-maize curls spilling messily over her shoulder with a turn of her wrist to free it from beneath the silver fabric.

He silently cursed himself for devious thoughts so early in the morning and walked over to press a kiss to the crown of her head, breathing in the sweet fruit scent of her shampoo and using his own dexterous fingers to smooth out her lapels and tug her into a light kiss.

“Shall we, my dear?”

She gave a light curtsy with the sides of her robe, and he grinned to himself as he offered his arm for her to merrily take.

“We shall.”

* * *

Wisteria let out a puff of chilled, shuddering breath, tucking her feet up onto the couch and shoving them under Alastor’s thigh with a sheepish smile. His reaction was only the barest jump of surprise, but he managed to reach out a hand beneath the blanket they were using to give her ankle the slightest squeeze of acknowledgement before returning to his plate of waffles, eggs, bacon and cut strawberries.

His lover was nearly done with her waffles, blueberries and strawberries having been buried under a torrent of cream from an aerosol can and slathered with sweet, _imported_ Canadian Maple Syrup.

She had said this with very firm insistence, and he had no doubt that in her mind it was a very important distinction.

The entirety of the family seemed to have gathered in the Livingroom and the dining room, which Alastor finally noticed back further around the corner from the kitchen, just a short hallway from the living room. Every available space from table to the floor was set up with tablecloths spread like picnic blankets and coasters set out for stable cup surfaces. Alastor made sure not to shift his foot too far, lest he tip over Miss Skit’s own cup of milk from where she was perched on the floor with Jasmine and CJ, chattering away with her hands between larger bites of her meal.

Christmas music was playing on the television and surrounding speakers, and conversations were rather lethargic on the majority of the adult’s parts. The children, from what Alastor could see of the many, _many_ small children from the extended lot, were nearly on top of one another to be eating dangerously close to the tree, their eyes wide and bulbous much like the House-Elf creatures his love had shown him from the _Harry Potter_ series.

“Presents are after breakfast,” the whispered words were offered to his ear with a gentle chuckle, and he glanced over to see her plate nearly cleaned fully, only a few strips of bacon left to be eaten. “There isn’t really a time for lunch. There’s a whole mess of finger-foods to be eaten all day before dinner tonight.. Last time I counted, there would be six turkeys, six hams, and I think twenty-something bowls of mashed potatoes..”

Alastor gave a mild shudder at the thought of that much food in one place to be cooked, but nodded in understanding and returned to his meal to finish quietly, simply enjoying the white-noise chatter and the warmth radiating from the body tucked close to his side.

It was at the insistent whining of several small children all under the age of eight that Nana’s sisters finally conceded to allow them to unwrap their presents. Nana shook her head slowly, smiling indulgently as she settled beside the fire with Gramps in the love seat and cradled a cup of coffee between her hands. Alastor recoiled slightly as he noticed the increase of presents compared to the absent-minded glance he’d had of the pile the night before, the sudden inclusion of larger boxes behind and under branches and a sudden influx of silver wrapping nearly overflowing from between nooks and crannies that had not previously been filled.

Wisteria left to put their plates in the kitchen to be washed in the dishwasher later, and Alastor shifted in his seat, tucking one foot beneath his thigh and leaning back in his seat to watch the entirety of the family converge within the living area, most with their phones and cameras out while a few of the middle generation had very technologically savvy-looking cameras.

A weight settled back onto the seat on his left, and he turned a reflexive, warm smile to the _seemingly_ welcome intruder as warm hands wound around his arm and pulled teasingly.

Everything within him _froze_ as his eyes fell upon unnaturally perfect golden curls and a fluffy black robe with a lining of thick black fur. The too-white smile with overly perfect teeth, the lack of freckles and the trace of hastily-applied blush- His entire body locked up in a sort of desperate lock-jaw sort of position, his inner mechanics shorting out like _live wires_ and his expression becoming strained as he _smiled._

* * *

You were quick to rinse off your dishes and tuck them into the dishwasher, humming softly to the music carrying through the house. You’d had a fun time waking Alastor up with Christmas carols, his sleepy, fluffy-eared mop of hair only pronounced cuter with tired squinty eyes and the _jaw-dislocating_ yawn he’d given before singing back. It was almost horrifyingly adorable and you were _certain_ he didn’t know he looked like a drowsy puppy when he’d finished with a lick to his bottom lip and a slow blink.

You squealed to yourself quietly even thinking about it, the warm flush of adoration on your cheeks brightening again as you clutched a hand to your heart and closed your eyes to _breathe_.

It took you longer than you’d ever admit to hear the sudden silence in the other room save for the music. By all rights, the house should be filled with adult’s cooing, children’s screeching and the absent clinking of dishware as everyone finishes eating.

You felt the hair rise on the back of your neck at the feeling of _wrong_ in the air and rushed back to the living room, darting around the kitchen island and forcing yourself between three layers of relatives, all with their phones recording, pointed at-

_Alastor and Genevieve and Brooke._

The picture went as follows, in the split second it took for you to register the scene before everything broke into _chaos_.

Yourself included in the equation.

Brooke had a bundle of leafy, berry-dotted mistletoe in the claws of her French-tipped nails, holding it almost _daintily_ above the love-seat. Alastor had his shoulders hunched up near his ears, his eyes wide and his fingers digging _trenches_ into the blanket on his lap.

Genevieve had leaned forward provocatively, eyes closed and her mouth pressed _right_ against Alastor’s, hands gripping his arm so hard you wondered if it had any blood flow.

You leapt forward in the same moment that Gramps bolted off of the couch eight feet away, having taken a moment to figure out what the _fuck_ had happened before you did, smacking the mistletoe out of Brooke’s hand and making the woman _scream_ in surprised pain as the bundle and berries scattered. CJ had taken hold of Genevieve’s shoulder and _hauled_ her ass off of the couch, directly into the path of the girl’s breakfasts and slamming her back-first into a pile of whip-cream and waffles, while _also_ getting drenched in two _tall_ glasses of milk.

Brooke’s mouth had opened, face red as a baboon's _ass_ in the moment you’d made it back to the couch.

“How _DARE_ you lay a hand on _me?”_

Genevieve’s face was frozen in _horror_ as _wet_ and _slimy_ and _cold_ pierced her through her three hundred dollar robe.

“You little _bitch-”_ She was scrambling to get up into CJ’s face at this point, while Skit and Jasmine scrambled to get _away_ and cling to Reece, who had leapt to his feet to get between the blonde and his sister, a thunderous expression of warning on his face that she _completely_ ignored. “Get the fuck out of my face, you fucking _faggot_ , this little bitch owes me three-”

Her words cut off as you reached her, reached out, and _backhanded her across the face_.

Several children screamed, startled and teary and afraid as everyone rushed to start yelling at once.

You settled down onto the couch, noting the stiff, locked-in-place look Alastor sported, his eyes wide and the whites of them showing off a faint, _ever-so-shadowy_ trace of static.

“Hey-” your whisper was _very_ quiet compared to the _screaming_ happening all around the both of you, but you didn’t care. “Alastor.. It’s okay..”

He wasn’t trembling, but you could _feel_ the static as it raised the hair on your arms and neck. You had to calm him down, and quickly.

“Hey,” you tried again, inching forward and stopping abruptly at the _twitch_ he gave in the muscle above the left of his top lip, pulling his absent-minded, _frozen_ smile into a snarl for nearly quarter of a second. You swallowed the unease you had, reassuring yourself that _you could do this, everything will be fine.._ Brooke’s screeching and the family’s screaming and Genevieve’s _crying_ faded away as you slowly lifted your hand, fingers splayed in an almost lazy way and your wrist held perfectly still as you showed him. His eyes were caught on your fingers as you inched closer, stopping when you noticed the almost _pinprick_ size of his pupils, watching, waiting several long seconds before they returned to a normal size before closing the distance in a _painfully_ slow pace.

Your palm met his forehead around the same moment that Gramps’s voice bellowed out above you, causing you to flinch in surprise.

The sudden, tight grip on your wrist had you stilling completely in compliance as you kept half an ear on what Gramps was barking and the rest of your entire attention on Alastor.

_“-Second strike, so you have better got a good reason to make me rethink throwing your asses to the curb-”_

His eyes had gone pin-pricky again, but they were moving, now, no longer solely locked on whatever was moving. His eyes settled somewhere around your hand before darting for your face, straying along the mess of your hair, likely windswept from the _sprinting act_ you just pulled, and the loose tie of your robe from having swung your arm out so wide. They flickered up to your face, and you waited, baited-breath and patient with calm, understanding eyes as his gaze met yours, and his demeanor slowly, _carefully_ relaxed.

“You’re.. Amazing.” The words left your lips almost involuntarily, but they were none-the-less completely true. His eyes, still stuck on yours, his hand, curled around your wrist.. His fingers lifted from your wrist to slip between the splayed ones of your own, palms meeting as he gently entwined your fingers and tightened his grip to something not painful, but very firm.

He hadn’t felt any sort of spike in your pulse. No fear, no anxiety, just _calm, reassuring, warmth_..

He leaned forward, taking you by surprise as he buried his nose in your hair, eyes fluttering shut as he breathed in deeply and let it out through his lips, warning, dark words nearly a _growl_ meeting your ear with the motion and causing you to give a full body _shudder_.

 _“Don’t leave me_ **_again_ ** _, darling..”_

“Can do,” you chuckled, the sound weak to your own ears even as he buried his face back into your hair and pulled you completely into his lap, tucking himself into the corner of the couch and lifting his legs to take the remainder of the seat so that you were sprawled completely over him either as a second blanket or a fleshy shield.

You paused, waiting for him to melt completely into your embrace before curling your fingers into his hair and petting slowly. You could see a dart of darkness from the corner of the room, Chester in the fire-light for a split second looking _very_ menacing, but backing down when you gave a subtle, sharp _no_ with a shake of your head.

He flickered away without retaliation, which you were thankful for, as if he were just another shadow from the fireplace. Alastor was still grounding himself with your scent, so you took a moment to take in the situation, which had changed _drastically_ in the five or so minutes you’d taken to pulling Alastor out of his minor mental break-down.

Brooke and Genevieve were just _barely_ within eyeshot in the kitchen, Brooke’s mother Annabelle was speaking fervently to the both of them, but Nana’s voice was uncharacteristically _sharp_ as she _argued back_ . It was flooring, and with a glance to other occupants of the room, everyone else was _just as startled_ to hear Nana’s _backtalk_.

It was widely known among the family that Nana was seen as the doormat, when Gramps wasn’t in the room. Now.. _Holy shit.._

Nana’s voice was rising above her sister’s and you could make out the words _“ABSOLUTELY NONE. SHE CROSSED_ **_SEVERAL_ ** _LINES, ANNABELLE-”_

Full name. _Yikes._

“Nana apparently loves you,” you offered after an awkward moment of realizing that _everyone_ was listening to the row in the kitchen. The children were huddled out near the tree, Soran was reading off names on present tags and passing them out as a way to distract them, making a scolding clicking noise with his tongue when they looked antsy enough to start unwrapping without the go-ahead.

Alastor huffed a soft breath against your neck before tightening his hold around your torso, tilting his head back so he could meet your eyes, the molten red-brown now dark enough to look like dried blood.

“That’s nice, dear,” he mumbled, looking punch-drunk and hazy as his fingers curled tighter into the fabric of your clothes and you were crushed _tighter_ to his chest as he tucked himself as close to you as physically possible and _breathed_.

“-LAST TIME, YOU UNDERSTAND. IF **ANYTHING** LIKE THIS HAPPENS AGAIN, CHRISTMAS OR NOT, YOU ARE OUT OF MY HOME.”

Nana’s voice bellowed scathingly from the kitchen, causing several dozen people to flinch at the surprising, and rarely heard tone. To them, it sounded like an omen of ill tidings.

For you, it felt like the herald of a Valkyrie.

Nana came back into the living room with Gramps on her heels, looking dumbstruck and so sappy you wondered if a glance between him and Al would show matching punch-drunk expressions.

He was incredibly attentive as he guided her back to the seat by the arm, even giving a slight bow before joining her and pressing a sound, lingering kiss to the crown of her head before giving Soran a nod of his head.

Taking the cue, the tall, raven haired young man began passing the last of the presents out, with the help of Torie managing to get everything passed around and divided with just a few names more called and announced.

You put all of the presents for you and Al in a singular pile to be opened after the children, settling upon Alastor’s chest to get comfortable and relaxing as he shifted beneath you, adjusting himself to be secure, before tightening his grip back to it’s firm constriction and returning to his slow, deep breathing in and out.

Video games and consoles were revealed beneath shining layers of festive wrapping, bows and ribbons flying in the rush to peel away the décor to get to the true treasure beneath.

Alastor’s breath was warm against your neck, and you continued to soothingly run your fingers through his hair as children screamed and squealed and shouted in excitement, converging on one another to show off their prizes and often running back to throw tight hugs around the person responsible.

Fairly soon, the children had finished, and it was time for Secret Santa.

You very much regretted the effort you’d taken in giving Brooke a nice gift after the stunt she’d pulled that morning.

However, the look on her face, the moue of distaste and forced politeness as she uncovered the mason-jars of homemade lotions was _almost_ enough to make you smile.

You were still simmering in silent fury, preoccupied with bringing your cannibal boyfriend down from a murderous high, and making sure your sister and cousins didn’t accidently slip up and gank the bitch themselves.

Because it was pretty clear that they _wanted_ to.

CJ couldn’t even _look_ in that woman’s direction without developing a twitch in her eye and Soran was playing gatekeeper by sitting on Reece’s direct left to keep him from even facing that direction.

Alastor’s Secret Santa gift was bound in warm green paper, and tied off with a shiny red ribbon. You pressed a furtive kiss to his forehead in silent question, and slowly, in an almost _painfully_ delicate maneuver, shifted himself into a sitting position, leaving you sprawled side-ways in his lap, legs thrown over one of his knees while his right arm cradled your back, holding your head close to his chest and neck so he could eye the proffered present with mild curiosity and a subdued, but still genial smile. Under your encouraging eyes, he shifted the gift into your lap and wound his arms completely around you to be able to unwrap it that way. You heard the soft _snick-snick_ of your sister’s phone camera taking photos, shooting her a warning glare in the split second it took Alastor to pull the paper away and chuckling in surprise when he snorted in mild surprise.

Inside the box was a shirt, in a light, mint green, with small black short sleeves. On the front of it, the blatant, bubbly letters spelling out _Voodoo Daddy_ had you snorting before breaking into a _cackle_.

Alastor gave you a good natured pinch to the side, causing you to burst into _more_ giggles and peer into the box with an aborted inhale. “Wait- wait Allie- There’s _more_..”

“Dear Lord,” Alastor muttered, sounding just _resigned_ as he pulled out a large, flat square and read the record folder.

_Big Bad Voodoo Daddy: Everything You Want For Christmas._

You inhaled sharply, choked, and burst into another long, painful fit of laughing, collapsing into Alastor’s side and clutching close to his robe as he sighed, long and loud against your cackling to hold you _tight_ and bury his face in your hair.

You could feel the smile of his lips against your forehead, pulling back with a demented-sounding giggle to wiggle your eyebrows suggestively. “Want to take it for a test-dance later?”

“Only if I get to lead,” he shot back without missing a beat.

Reece laughed, bright and happy, and Torie gave a slow, self-satisfied fistpump when Alastor wasn’t looking.

A present was thrust into your own arms from your Secret Santa, and you were careful to aim the wrapping paper ball you’d crumbled it into toward a large plastic garbage bag in the corner near the kitchen before looking down to the garment box sitting on your lap.

You lifted the tell-tale white lid and peered inside, only to hurriedly shove the lid back on before Alastor got a peek, a heavy, red flush crawling up your cheeks and turning your ears as red as the bobbles on the tree.

“What’d ya’ get, sis?” Chrys seemed _all_ too eager to get a peek, inching closer with her wide smile and her taunting eyes. She looked curious, so you knew she wasn’t responsible.

“Who’s neck am I wringing?” Your voice wasn’t as strong as you’d have liked it to be, and Alastor stiffened behind you as he inhaled, his arms suddenly more like concrete than anything remotely flexible as he hulked like a vulture from over your shoulder. His breath was still hot on the back of your neck, but there was a stuttered moment of surprise before you were pulled back against his chest and his dried-blood eyes were looking down at the box with poorly-hidden suspicion.

There was a chirp of a cellphone ringtone, and you darted your eyes to the guilty disturbance to see George, sprawled on Brian’s lap and looking like the cat that had gotten the fish, the canary _and_ the cream.

He gave you a flirty, devious wave of his fingers, and resolved yourself to suffer in relative silence with only a muffled groan and a sharp glare of warming.

You tucked the gift beneath the blanket and turned your eyes to Chrys, who pulled out something that looked like a bathroom home-spa kit and CJ who was unfolding a soft plush blanket with Supernatural characters printed on the front.

Once the room delved into full chaos, you decided to put your next present into Al’s hand, not wanting him to have the full brunt of _everyone’s_ eyes on him as you finally, _finally_ completed the family tradition.

It seemed, however, that your Nana had been waiting for this _exact_ moment, and you’d not noticed her hawkish, pointed stare because of how _subtle_ she’d been masking it. You wouldn’t have known she’d been watching and _waiting_ until Alastor his torn away the wrapping paper you’d found with painstakingly cute cartoon-deer-print to pull out a garment box of his own, much larger than your own had been, twice as thick, surely, and much heavier, if you’d had to take a mental calculation.

Nana’s squeal brought the room to a startled halt as Alastor lifted the sweater from the box, warm grey wool in an intricate, _painstakingly crafted_ with a crew-neck (you couldn’t put yourself through the emotional toll of crafting a _turtleneck, you weren’t that depraved(yet))_ , with black, horizontal striped that had an inlaid diamond print that wound equally and neatly around the innermost torso portion of the sweater. The sleeves were capped at the wrists with the same, warm wool in a complimenting maroon, and Alastor felt a pang in his heart that he knew was _love_ as he noted the lack of tags, and the faint trace of scent that belonged solely to the office upstairs within their little cabin paradise.

“Did you make him a _dress_ , Wisp?” Reece’s flabbergasted exclamation was paired with several sets of startled laughter as Alastor brought out the finished garment, gently rubbing the soft wool between his fingers and eyeing the well-hidden seams. The size was.. _Perfect for his true form.._

Alastor’s lips found your cheek, and you hummed in question before his free hand was guiding your head to the side and he was drawing you into a warm, searching kiss.

You felt yourself _melt_ as clicking sounds went around you and Alastor savoured the taste of berries and cream on your breath and the warmth of you in his arms.

“ _Je t'aime_ ,” he murmured, voice low and _choked_ as he struggled to take in the _scent_ of you and the _scent_ of the cabin and the _noise_. “My darling, you..”

“I love you,” the words were whispered at equal volume to him as the home’s main family broke into excitement, cheering laughter and exclamations, knocking shoulders and hugging and slugging one another in the arm when they were too far away for the first two. Nana was _crying_. Gramps was holding her tight and smiling with his grim, resigned affection.

Alastor seemed.. A _touch_ confused about the level of merriment an “oversized” sweater brought the family. And when it didn’t look like you were going to say anything, merely opening your own gift from him, one of many, you found in mild surprise, Reece leaned over with a furtive wave at the man’s feet and mouthed “Welcome to the Family.”

Alastor felt a chilled burst of hot-cold flash through his body as he looked upon all of the married and taken men in the room, and felt himself flushing _red_ as he looked upon _sweaters_ . Sweaters of wool and sweaters of yarn, each stitched by hand and with varying degrees of proficiency. The sweater Uncle Justin Sported looked as if it would hardly fit him anymore, worn and sporting newer-looking yarn attachments that lengthened the garment and brought out more color, more _detail._

Alastor felt, oddly, as if he might have accepted some sort of engagement ring.

“They’re beautiful-!” Your surprised, delighted words brought Alastor’s attention snapping back to the present as he brought his eyes back to you, watching you coo sweetly over a pair of moccasins lined in rabbit fur that he’d made out in the shed. He’d made plenty of _other_ things, mostly from his hunting kills- _the animals, only- he wasn’t crass enough to give her human remains-_ and they were all dutifully piled up and wrapped in delightfully colored ribbon and paper at their feet upon the couch cushion.

“Thank you, Alastor,” you murmured, reaching up a hand to guide his chin down so you could press a kiss to his cheek, then awkwardly lean forward to slip your bare feet into the soft, soothing insides and click them together in delight.

You kicked your feet for a few moments, admiring them with warm bliss upon your features while your sister and the rest of the family continued to tear open wrapping, halfheartedly throw it toward the garbage bag, and call out thank-yous and welcomes in appropriation. Many of the children had long since finished and rushed to play with their new toys and eat the sweets from their stockings in secret, and you watched with bated breath as Alastor continued to open presents in your lap, taking cue from you to alternate back and forth in your small, relatively undisturbed bubble.

To Alastor’s surprise, he received more than a dozen presents, each in some way reflecting something he liked or mentioned he was interested in either with his love or with your sister.

It was jarring to say the least.

Having people give him genuine, thoughtful _gifts_ was something he really wasn’t used to.

_He was touchy enough about Rosie giving him alcohol or discounts on the suits he bought, but this seemed.. Different.._

He felt, for lack of a better phrase.. _Enfolded_ within the warm family dynamic, slotted into place beside his love as if it were always open, always empty and just _meant_ for him to be there.

The thought had the beast inside of him _purring_ , while the rest was flushed warm with _affection_ and _want_ . With multiple small piles on the seat beside them, Alastor watched intently as she uncovered the gifts he’d given her, a knife made from the bone of an elk he’d fallen, a delicate necklace with the bones of a fish incorporated around some of the more precious stones he’d found in the river areas, smoothed and polished to a lustrous shine befitting a true princess’s necklace. There was a fox-fur scarf, a deer-skin shawl, and even a single reaching antler set into a wooden base and _draped_ with a long, sweeping string of fine pearls.

You were close to crying.

“It’s beautiful.” You couldn’t help but repeat the heartfelt, honest words as you ran a hesitant fingertip down the length of the small jewelry stand, if that was indeed what it was, if a few bone-carved rings stood out had anything to say for themselves.

Alastor’s own gifts included, from you, a pocket watch, freshly polished and shined, in a gleaming silver, with a sort of.. _Demonic crest_ inlaid within the center of the opened catch, which had a _heart_ carved into the skull of the decorative deer inscribed inside. 

Alastor also found a cookbook surrounding traditional _Northern American_ meals, which differed _greatly_ from _Southern American_ meals. He received a hunting knife with his name carved into the handle- he pressed a firm kiss to the side of her head at this one. A nice leather wallet, with a card he wasn’t sure of tucked inside. He’d investigate it, later. A snow globe with the inside showing New Orleans and two pieces of thick card paper that read-

His grip loosened so much on the globe that it fell to the floor with a _thunk_ , rolling along the plush carpet and bringing quite a few sets of eyes to see his sudden, frozen face of black, pleasant _shock._

 _His smile- his smile was_ **_slipping- what did these mean- why did she buy these-_ **

“I thought we could make it our first stop,” she murmured, more of an explanation than anything else could be as he looked upon the tickets that said _Georgia to Louisiana._

_Atlanta to New Orleans-_

**_Atlanta to New Orleans-_ **

“Well.. isn’t Mardi Gras supposed to be _the_ party to go to,” your voice wavered with your excitement and sudden lack of _surety_ . Alastor was tense behind you and you could feel the cement-firmness of his arms as he held perfectly still. His smile was _frozen_ but it was strained.

_“You-”_

You felt your whole body spun around and dipped before you could even think to counter it, one leg thrown up over the back of the couch and the other sprawled out to the left and bent awkwardly at the knee as Alastor dipped you back, hair brushing the floor and _kissed you senseless._

You hummed in surprise as he pulled the kiss immediately from something sweet and chiding into something _far_ more warm and thankful, tongue darting playfully along your bottom lip and his arms pulling your arched spine _closer_ to his chest as the family howled and laughed in surprise.

Gramps cleared his throat loudly after a minute or so, and Alastor pulled up with a bright red face, flushed warm from the heat of the room and the blistering _inferno_ of emotions ravaging his mind and heart. You breathed heavy and startled, eyes dazed as you slumped limp in his arms and tried to keep your head from lolling off of his shoulder as you reclaimed the lost oxygen to your brain.

“Love you too, babe,” you murmured.

 _You had another surprise_ **_waiting_ ** _in New Orleans, but that was for later and you wanted to give it to him_ **_there._ **

**Author's Note:**

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